And Promise You Calm Seas
by QueenOfTheDreamers87
Summary: 1968. Three years after her father inked a deal arranging her marriage to the aspirational Tom Riddle, the aristocratic Bellatrix Black is ready to marry the ascending Lord Voldemort. With her personality and his ambition, their marriage may turn out to be something far more auspicious for them both. Complete. Part I of The Storm Series.
1. Provisional

_March, 1965_

 _Black Family Residence_

 _London_

"Well, Cygnus. I hope this plan makes everyone very happy."

"The age gap is daunting, sir," Cygnus confessed. "Bellatrix is twenty-five years your junior. And you're insisting upon marrying her the moment she comes of age."

Lord Voldemort - still known to nearly the entire wizarding world as Tom Riddle - folded his hands on Cygnus Black's desk and sniffed lightly.

"She will leave for school on the first of September in 1968, will she not?"

"She will," Cygnus nodded hesitantly where they sat in his office on the rainy spring day. Voldemort swallowed hard and said calmly,

"A provisional marriage could be made, to be solemnised fully over Christmas holidays of her sixth year of school. That way, the wedding could take place just twenty-one days before her seventeenth birthday. I would, of course, adhere to law and abstain from… you know…"

Cygnus' cheeks reddened, but he nodded a little. "It would allow a nice big public wedding just before she returns to school. Still, I wonder why you can not wait until the winter holidays… perhaps we can discuss it closer to the wedding."

Voldemort tipped his head and promised, "I won't touch her until the Christmas holidays of that year, Cygnus. I am not that sort of bastard. And, anyway, this is an arranged marriage. She'd be in one no matter what. Someone's going to touch you. You know it's true."

"I know." Cygnus blinked a few times and asked him, "Tom… sorry. Lord Voldemort. Why don't you marry a witch our age?"  
"Nearly forty? Beyond reproductive capabilities, should that be a route I decide to go down? Hm? No. I spent my youth and my thirties doing very important work. But by the time I came home, Cygnus, all of the little girls who had fawned over Tom Riddle had grown into married mothers. All that's left are spinsters and… your lovely, wicked-headed daughter. I could tame her."

"Tame her." Cygnus lowered his eyes and said, "She's nearly been expelled four of five times."

"Good. I like her tenacity," Voldemort nodded, and Cygnus looked surprised. Voldemort smirked. "She drowned things when she was little and she hexes them now that she's grown. I think I'll like her very much. And I promise you, Cygnus, to take very good care of her."

Cygnus Black III picked up a quill and signed the contract on the desk before him. He sighed.

"And you… Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort… you get to marry into one of the oldest and most aristocratic families in wizarding Britain. I don't suppose you mind?"

"I don't suppose I do," Voldemort said, accepting the quill. He dipped it and signed his name, and he extended his hand and clutched Cygnus' forearm as Cygnus did the same.

"We have ourselves a deal, then," Cygnus said, and Voldemort nodded crisply.

* * *

 _14 August 1968_

 _Twillfit and Tattings_

 _London_

"Oh, don't you look like a dream," breathed Druella Black, and Bellatrix just studied her own reflection for a long moment as she twirled around. Her wedding gown was cream-coloured raw silk, gathered in places along the full skirts. The tight bodice and off-the-shoulder straps were decorated with pearls and beads. The Twillfit and Tattings witch was explaining to Druella how to detach the cape that led to the long train for the ceremony, so that Bellatrix could dance at her reception.

"How are you going to wear your hair?" asked Telinda, the employee, and Bellatrix shrugged.

"Down, I suppose."

"No," Druella protested. "We're pulling it into a tight, low chignon. So we'll pin the veil… yes, just there. Perfect. Thank you. Oh, Bella. How lucky you are that your father secured you to Mr Riddle when he did."

"I think he prefers Lord Voldemort now," Bellatrix muttered, but then Telinda asked,

"What are the flowers?"

"Stephy-litis," Bellatrix said, but Druella rolled her eyes and amended,

"Stephanotis. They're lovely. Already Preserved. Bellatrix. You are going to be a beautiful bride."

"Did you want to marry Daddy when you did?" Bellatrix asked. "You were twenty. Practically ancient in the Pureblood world."

Druella's cheeks pinked. "I cared very deeply for… my, what a very personal conversation to be having in the robe shop."

"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" asked Telinda. "Shoes, jewellery?"

"I've got cream slippers, and I'll be wearing my great-great-grandmother's pearls," Bellatrix said. Once they finished with the ensemble, getting a promise that it would be hand-delivered to the Black family home within two days, they headed out and finished up some shopping in Diagon Alley before going home. When they arrived, Hinky, their House-Elf, dashed up to the door and hissed,

"Lord Voldemort, as he calls himself, is here, Madam, Mistress. He arrived twenty minutes ago and I have seated him in the parlour."

"What?" Bellatrix whispered frantically, and Druella said quietly,

"Don't panic. Don't panic."

Bellatrix panicked then. Was he here to call off the wedding, to try and get out of his contract somehow? Was he here to make demands of some kind?  
"Hello!" Druella said brightly as the ladies strode into the sitting room. Andromeda was at a friend's house today, Bellatrix knew, and Narcissa was at Malfoy Manor with her little 'boyfriend,' Lucius. Cygnus was to pick them each up on his way home from his executive position at Gringotts. Bellatrix and Druella were the only ones here to greet Tom Riddle - Lord Voldemort - who stood politely from the chair where he'd been sipping tea. His lightweight green robes billowed about him, and he bowed his head as he said respectfully,

"Madam Black. Miss Black. I do hope I've not inconvenienced you with a surprise visit. I confess I had only hoped for a brief and pleasant conversation with my bride in the days leading up to our wedding."

"Oh." For some reason, that made Bellatrix a little breathless. Druella, who Bellatrix knew had been three years younger than Tom Riddle in school, smirked a bit and nodded.

"Of course. I've got to go freshen up. I'll leave you two to talk."

"Thank you, Druella," Voldemort said softly. Once she'd gone, Bellatrix came and sat opposite Voldemort, nervously yanking down her short black skirt. She flashed him a little smile and felt her heart race with anxiety. But he just sipped at his tea a little, and he asked her,

"Are you almost ready? For the wedding?"

"The stephanotis are already Preserved," Bellatrix said confidently. "And my gown is pretty. Though I never wear white. Will my things be moved immediately after the wedding? My belongings?"

"Oh. Erm… that's up to you," Voldemort said. "In a provisional marriage, where the ceremony happens before the bride comes of age, typically she stays with her parents until after her birthday. But since you're going back to school, it probably doesn't much matter. You'll have your own bedroom in my home, so…"

"Your home in the Broadway, in the Cotswolds," Bellatrix nodded. "Marsham House, you said."

"Yes, I built it," he nodded. "Three years ago, after I signed the marriage contract. I knew I needed a home if I was to have an aristocratic wife. I've got a House-Elf. It's a pretty house. It's no Malfoy Manor, nor Castle Lestrange, but it is large and pleasant, and I hope you will like it there. You will have your privacy, I assure you."

Bellatrix gulped hard. She couldn't help thinking about the fact that while he couldn't touch her until the Christmas holidays, after that he could do whatever he wanted. Why hadn't he waited to marry her until Christmas, anyway?

"There is a date in December," he said, and she jolted, always alarmed by his Legilimency, "that makes me uncomfortable. I did not wish to marry then."

"Christmas?" Bellatrix asked, and he shook his head.

"New Year's."

"Did something happen on New Year's?" she asked curiously, and he curled up half his mouth.

"I was born on New Year's. You can tell I'm not giving you all the truth. All right. The reality, Bellatrix, is that in 1965, I needed to sign a contract seeing to it that I married into an aristocratic Pureblood family as quickly and efficiently as I possibly could. A provisional marriage seemed wise. But I won't touch you. Don't worry."

Bellatrix wasn't worried, somehow. He managed to take away some of her worry. He was handsome, she thought, though so much older. She shrugged, studying his eyes and his jaw, and she asked,

"What shall I call you?"

"Most people still call me _Tom_ ," he pointed out, but Bellatrix shook her head.

"You don't like that name. You want to be called _Lord Voldemort._ You're too powerful to be _Tom._ "

His eyes flashed strangely then. He dragged his thumb over his lip and said,

"I'm nowhere near as powerful as I will be. And _Lord Voldemort_ is not a name to be waved about like a banner. It must maintain its own power. _Sir_ will do fine."

Bellatrix snorted a laugh and shook her head. "As if you are a professor at school? Please. Something else."

He narrowed his eyes at her and shook his head. "Call me whatever you like."

Suddenly Bellatrix had an idea, and she smiled a little. " _My Lord_."

"What?" he whispered, looking shocked, and she nodded.

"It's like _sir_ , but for _Lord Voldemort._ Will it suit you, My Lord?"

He just blinked a few times and surprised her by whispering, almost desperately, "Bellatrix…"

He shut his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he said softly to her,

"I think you and I are going to get along just fine."

 **Author's Note: I've decided to continue writing, but definitely on a scaled-back level. I have some very exciting professional opportunities coming up, I've got some health stuff I'm dealing with, etc. but I really do derive a lot of satisfaction from writing for these two. Bear with me as I write this new story. Please do leave a comment if you get a spare moment.**


	2. When We Get Home

_17 August 1968_

 _Black Family Home_

 _London_

He'd never really wanted a wife.

Tom Riddle had been so focused on his ambition over the last forty-one years of his existence that marriage hadn't become a priority until it became yet another political machination. By marrying into the Black family, he was making himself an aristocrat. And if he could do that, he could leverage his will against the powerful people of the Pureblood world.

They were downstairs now, he thought as he stared at himself in the full-length mirror in the library upstairs. Bulstrodes and Averys. Notts, Goyles, Lestranges, Mulcibers, Blacks, and more. At least four or five representatives from each family were downstairs, crowding the sitting-room, dining, room, and sunroom. The ceremony was to be held in the back garden, spacious for London and walled in by two-metre high hedges on either side. The Muggles who lived next door had been repelled with charms, and chairs had been set up, with Nallery Shacklebolt to officiate the ceremony. She was a Ministry witch and therefore certified to file the paperwork.

Voldemort did up the sleeves of his tuxedo robes and thought about Bellatrix. If he had to have a wife, she wasn't the worst option. She was pretty. Very pretty. She was young. She was sprightly and new to the world, not yet jaded. She was eager to please him, eager to call him _My Lord._

' _My Lord…'_

He shivered at the memory of how she'd said it. He ran a Conjured comb through his hair one last time and checked that he looked slick and suave, and he went downstairs to his wedding.

Out back, he waited under the rowan tree with Abraxas Malfoy, his best man, as the wedding guests took their seats. Abraxas had been the closest thing Tom Riddle had ever had to a real friend, and now he combed his fingers through his icy hair and asked,

"Ready for this?"

"Is a man ever really ready to marry, Abraxas?" Voldemort smirked, and Abraxas chuckled.

"I've been married for over twenty years, and I still don't think I'm ready," he said, glancing to where his wife Martina was sitting with their son Lucius. Martina had been a Ravenclaw, an Avery by birth, and she was as blonde as her husband. But she was ageing, her face showing some wrinkles, and their only son was thirteen years old. Voldemort huffed a breath and said,

"She's only seventeen. Not quite."

"She'll grow up," Abraxas assured him, "in her own time. She's perfect for you, I think. I've known her for years. She's… Dark."

"I know." Voldemort curled his lips up a little and adjusted the hem of his tuxedo robe. "She's spoken to me in the past about wanting to attack Mudbloods for me someday."

Abraxas chuckled again, and Voldemort realised everyone was sitting. The enchanted instruments beside them began to play, a lovely string quartet piece, and everyone turned their attention toward the back of the garden, toward the house.

"Mr Riddle," said a voice, and he turned his face to see that Nallery Shacklebolt had appeared in crisp white robes with Ministry insignia on a stole around her shoulders. He nodded and said,

"Thank you for performing the ceremony, Ms Shacklebolt."

"My pleasure. Here comes your mother-in-law," said dark-skinned, tall, thin Nallery. Voldemort turned to see that Druella Black, looking elegant in dark silver gown robes, was walking slowly down the aisle, a cream rose corsage pinned to her chest. She grinned like a madwoman and pulled out her handkerchief as she took her seat in the front row. Narcissa and Andromeda Black followed in their lighter silver bridesmaid dresses, looking pretty and content, and then Bellatrix's second-cousins, two little Mulciber girls, came careening down the aisle tossing rose petals. The instruments stopped playing then, and everyone stood.

Suddenly Voldemort felt very anxious indeed. He could feel her out there. He could feel Bellatrix's presence. The instruments struck up a march, and suddenly she was there, rounding the corner behind the back row of seats on Cygnus Black's arm.

Her tulle veil had been brought up and forward, covering her face with one layer and draping down with the other layer. Her gown was a delicious creation, the cape of which trailed long behind her. And she carried her stephanotis, a demure little bouquet, in her left hand. Her right hand was shaking on her father's arm, Voldemort could see. She was nervous. But he could barely see her face, for the veil was covering her rather thoroughly. She walked so slowly with her father that Voldemort thought she would never come to the front.

"She looks lovely," Abraxas murmured, and Voldemort wanted to snap at him not to make any comments about his wife. Instead he just nodded in silence. She did look lovely. Finally - _finally_ \- Cygnus and Bellatrix reached the front, and by then Druella was dabbing at her eyes. The music ended triumphantly, and Bellatrix stared through her veil at Voldemort, who just nodded at her.

"We are gathered today to witness the marriage of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Black. On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I shall do my duty to solemnise this marriage," said Nallery Shacklebolt. "Who gives this witch to this wizard?"

"I, Cygnus Black III," said Voldemort's new father-in-law and old school compatriot. Voldemort gulped. He stepped up to Bellatrix, peeled back her veil, and gasped a little. She was shockingly pretty with a little makeup on, with pearls around her neck. She was staring up at him in wonder, and as Cygnus took his seat, Voldemort found that there was something sticky and round in his throat, or at least it felt that way.

"Is there any impediment to this marriage which anyone can name?" asked Nallery, and Voldemort glared at the audience, daring one of them to say something. No one did. Nallery said, "Be seated, please."

Once everyone had sat and Bellatrix had handed her flowers to Andromeda, she anxiously turned back to Voldemort, and he was completely lost in her eyes as Nallery asked them whether they promised to take one another as lawfully wedded husband and wife. Of course he did. _I do_ , he said. Bellatrix said it, too.

There were readings of old texts then, and a stupid little song, and then they exchanged rings. Bellatrix's left hand was trembling badly, so Voldemort rubbed a little at it to comfort her as he slid her diamond-encrusted band on. He'd saved up for some time for it, and now he said confidently,

"This ring be yours forevermore, a symbol of my dedication to you. Bellatrix Black, with this ring, I thee wed."

He took his own simple platinum band from Abraxas and handed it to Bellatrix, and she immediately dropped it.

"Oh, no. Oh, no!" she whispered, and he murmured gently as people laughed a bit,

"Don't worry; I'll fetch it." He wandlessly Summoned the ring, which flew up into his hand, impressing a few people, most of all Bellatrix. He smirked and handed it to her again, and this time, she said just loudly enough for him to hear,

"Thank you, My Lord."

His mouth fell open at that. She reached for his left hand, and as she pushed the ring on, she said,

"This ring be yours forevermore, a symbol of my dedication to you. Tom Marvolo Riddle, with this ring, I thee wed."

She had to use his old name, he knew, for government purposes. Still, it annoyed him that all of this had to go through the Ministry. He would be so much bigger than the Ministry one day.

He was married. He was married, he realised with a start. Nallery congratulated them, and they held hands as they walked down the aisle together as man and wife, and the House-Elves started clearing the space to make room for all the hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Since this wedding was happening at a house, there would be no toasts or formal reception dining, but rather milling about and dancing. The dance floor appeared as the sun started to go down, after Voldemort had chatted separately from Bellatrix with just about everyone he needed to see.

"Tom," he heard, and he whirled around, dizzy after four drinks, to see Druella Black grinning at him. She seemed like she wanted to embrace him, but, mercifully, she did not.

"Bellatrix wanted her things moved to your residence," Druella reminded her, "so that's been done. She can return home with you after…"

She seemed very emotional then, for her daughter would be going back to school in a few weeks and was a married witch now. She'd lost her for good. Voldemort sipped his gin and gillywater and said,

"Druella, I'll take exceptionally fine care of her."

"I know you will," Druella nodded. "And I know that she thinks very highly of you. I also know that you _technically_ could touch her, with her consent, but I would ask you -"

"Don't worry," Voldemort said, sipping his drink again. "You don't need to worry about any of it, Druella."

He was a little drunk, he realised. He was talking like he was drunk. He hadn't danced with Bellatrix yet, and he wanted to do that. He set his drink down and said to Druella,

"The cake was marvelous. I… I'm going to find her. Bellatrix. Excuse me."

He meandered off, seeing Bellatrix in a crowd of girls that must be her Slytherin schoolmates. He walked right up to the group, and the other girls seemed very frightened of him. Bellatrix turned around and smiled warmly. How different she was from the others, Voldemort thought.

"Will you dance with me?" he asked very bluntly, but she just nodded and took his hand, saying over her shoulder,

"See you at school. Thanks for coming."

"Schoolmates?" he asked rather awkwardly, leading her to the dance floor, and Bellatrix nodded.

"Two of my roommates and then few girls who are a year younger in Slytherin."

"A year younger. So they'll be sixth-years," Voldemort nodded, and Bellatrix scowled as he brought her into a dancing stance.

"I will be a sixth-year," she reminded him. Suddenly his chest pulled a little as they moved. Two years? He had to put up with two years of her being gone at school? It had seemed like a convenience just a few weeks before. Why did it now seem like an inconvenience? Why did it make his chest hurt?

"Oh. Right. I knew that. Too much gin." He put his hand to the small of her back and took her hand, and he said seriously, "You look beautiful."

"Really, My Lord?" Bellatrix grinned wildly, and his stomach ached. He wanted to take her face in his hands. He was drunk. He needed to stop dancing with her. She was his wife.

"Beautiful," he said again, and they danced for a long time in silence. It got worse and worse as the dance went on, the feeling that if he didn't kiss her, he was going to snap. The song ended, and he pulled Bellatrix a little closer to him, and suddenly she was stroking at his chest instead of holding his hand. She was giving him a blazing look. She wanted him. Did she want him?

"May I kiss you?" he asked in a blur, and she replied simply,

"You're my husband."

"It's provisional," Voldemort reminded her. "You're sixteen. Your… your father had to sign the licence."

"But he did sign it," Bellatrix insisted. Suddenly Voldemort wondered if people were watching them. Surely people were watching them. He tried to remind himself why he was here. This was a political marriage. He'd married Bellatrix for the sake of his own social status.

"I'd like to kiss you," he mumbled, and he dipped his head. He almost put his lips to hers, but he stopped himself. He kissed her forehead instead, and she whimpered slightly. She wanted him to kiss her.

"Tonight," he promised her, pulling back a little. "At home."

"Home," she smiled, and he nodded.

"I'll kiss you goodnight when we get home."

 **Author's Note: Hoo boy. Let's see if he can manage to keep his hands off of her like he promised Cygnus and Druella and the Ministry he would. Hahaha. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing.**


	3. Marsham House

_17 August 1968_

 _Marsham House_

 _Broadway, Worcestershire_

"So. This is Marsham House."

Bellatrix walked through the dark red door that Lord Voldemort held open at the large stone house where he'd brought her after the wedding. This place wasn't enormous, but it was bigger than her parents' house, and it was situated on loads of quiet, rolling land.

"This is the new lady of the house," Voldemort told the House-Elf when they walked inside, and he informed Bellatrix, "This is Tippy."

"Madam Bellatrix," wheezed Tippy. "I have been waiting for you."

"Hullo," Bellatrix nodded, feeling anxious. She looked around at the brass chandelier illuminating the Victorian style foyer with its slightly winding, dark staircase. She marveled, "You built all of this, My Lord?"

"Construction spells aren't so difficult as you might think," he shrugged. "It took a while, but it was worth it. I needed a home if I was to have a wife. Here; I'll give you a tour. Over here to the right is the formal parlour."

Bellatrix nodded at the cream-and-gold room with its staid furniture, oak piano, and endless bookshelves. It was a large space, a library and parlour in one, and it was quite lovely, she thought. Bellatrix followed Voldemort down the narrow corridor, past the gently moving landscapes on the wood paneled walls, and they passed a heavy wooden door. He opened it to reveal a desk and yet more bookshelves, and he said,

"My office. I prefer to keep it to myself, if you don't mind."

"Of course," she nodded.

"Kitchen's back here. Don't worry about that; Tippy does the cooking," Voldemort said, waving his hand dismissively at the cast iron ovens and copper pots and pans they passed. Around the back of the house was a glass-encased conservatory, which was beautifully filled with plants, along with wrought iron tables and cushy furniture. They looped around to find a pale blue dining room with an eight-seat elegant table. Through that was a more casual sitting room with even more books, and Bellatrix noted,

"You must quite enjoy reading."

"Do you not?" he asked, and she smiled a bit.

"I do. I shall be glad to have a home full of books."

"Good." He dragged his fingers along the top of the chair before him, and he said softly, "I'll show you your space upstairs."

Bellatrix followed him up the winding stairs, and at the top, he showed her a guest bedroom that was cream-and-gold like the parlour downstairs. There was a small bathroom attached. He gestured toward his own bedroom, a dark brown room full of brass and black accents, as far as Bellatrix could see. He hadn't cut corners in building or decorating this place, she thought. Anxious to see her own rooms, she followed him around the landing to the other side and into a small suite. There was a dressing area in navy blue and a paler medium blue. It had two large wardrobes, a boudoir, two windows, and a door to a bright white and black bathroom. Through another door was a bedroom, also in two shades of blue, with a double bed and a bedside table, along with a window that faced the back of the house.

"Will this do?" he asked, and when Bellatrix turned around, he was very near her. She just nodded and whispered,

"It's perfect, My Lord."

"Bellatrix." He shook his head a little and muttered, "I'll send Tippy in to help you get undressed. Goodnight."

He started to go, so Bellatrix frowned deeply and called,  
"Wait."

He turned back slowly, and she shrugged. "You said you were going to kiss me goodnight."

"I'm sober now," he told her firmly, and Bellatrix's heart sank. She nodded.

"Oh. I see. You were just drunk. All right."

"I am pleased to be wed to you," he told her, and she just nodded again, her eyes welling a bit. He pinched his lips and continued, "You did look very beautiful. Still do."

She nodded once more, turning away a little. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said, and she heard his feet on the wooden floors as he left.

* * *

"Good morning," Bellatrix said cheerfully, and Voldemort looked like he was about to answer before he froze in the doorway to the dining room.

"Forgive me," he mumbled. "I'll return when you're… dressed."

"What?" Bellatrix was confused as he walked away, and she flew up from where she'd been eating a grapefruit. She dashed after him and exclaimed, "I _am_ dressed!"

"You are not," Voldemort said, walking away toward his office. Bellatrix huffed and exclaimed,

"Am I not permitted to eat my breakfast in my pyjamas? My Lord?"

"Stop saying that!" he growled, whirling around in the corridor. He hovered over her, so much taller, and as she stared up at him, she went wide-eyed with fear at his tone. He studied her, the way her tight, sleeveless black nightgown revealed her round little breasts and the curve of her waist and hips. His nostrils flared a little, and he whispered again, "Stop saying that."

"Why?" Bellatrix demanded, and he finally met her eyes.

"Because you're the only one who says it, and you say it… a certain way," Voldemort said, licking his lip. He was staring at her mouth, Bellatrix realised suddenly. He wanted to kiss her. Did he want to kiss her?"

"Do it," she whispered, and he snarled,

"Don't goad me, little girl. Go put some clothes on." Then he went into his office and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Later that evening, Bellatrix was curled up on the sofa in the casual sitting room with a copy of _Roses For Clementine_ in her hands. It was a sappy romance, but she couldn't put it down.

"I'm off to bed. It's quite late," said a voice, and Bellatrix looked up to see Lord Voldemort by the stairs. She nodded and smiled a little at him.

"Goodnight."

"Are you staying up?" he asked, and she nodded.

"I'm going to read for a while," she said. "I confess to liking this sordid romantic book a bit too well."

"Oh. I don't know that one," Voldemort smirked. "I bought quite a lot of bins of unsold books from Flourish and Blotts to fill the shelves."

He approached Bellatrix, and she grinned as she informed him,

" _Roses For Clementine_ is the story of Johann Hemlitt, a spell inventor in the early Middle Ages. He loved to give roses to his love, Clementine, but in the winter, he couldn't. You see, there was not yet a spell for Conjuring them. So he made one up to give roses to Clementine. Only, he got caught doing it by the local Muggles, and they killed him. But Clementine was already pregnant with their daughter, and she taught her the spell. I'm nearly at the end. It's very tragic."

"That is tragic." Voldemort sat on the sofa beside Bellatrix and sighed. "Muggles do all sorts of tragic things. They're tragic creatures."

"I know what you're going to be," Bellatrix said seriously, shutting her book. Voldemort raised his eyebrows.

"Do you?"

"Yes." She nodded and whispered, "You're going to rule everything. You're going to reign. Aren't you?"

Voldemort's lips parted in surprise, but he nodded. "Yes. I am."

"And we will all be your servants," Bellatrix noted. "Me most of all."

"Bellatrix." He blinked quickly a few times, and she asked him solemnly,

"When the time comes, will you allow me to serve you? Like a soldier? Will you let me serve you, My Lord?"

He'd told her not to say that, but he didn't seem to mind now. He reached to cup Bellatrix's jaw in his hand, and he said in a troubled voice,

"I promised Cygnus Black…"

"What is my father to you except another future servant?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort chomped his lip, his cheeks going red. His warm hand tightened a little on her face.

"You need to stop now," he whispered, "because if you don't…"

"If I don't stop talking about you being in charge," she teased him gently, reaching for his chest, "then what will you do?"

"Bellatrix." He reached with his hand for her other cheek, and he brought his lips down to meet hers. She was surprised by how gentle he was, by the way he just pressed his mouth to hers and then rubbed at her cheeks. Again and again he kissed her, then he licked a tiny bit at her mouth and whispered against her lips,

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she muttered, opening her mouth and letting him push his tongue between her lips. When he dragged his tongue over the roof of her mouth, she moaned softly and trailed her hands down his chest. She finally let him separate their mouths, and when he did, she felt so alive she could hardly breathe. She was panting, wet between her legs, throbbing with want, and Voldemort stroked beneath her eyes with his thumbs, setting her alight. He looked hungry. He looked thirsty and weary and excited and desperate.

"Goodnight, Bella," he whispered, and she realised he'd never called her that before. She nodded.

"Goodnight, My Lord."

He rose and walked very determinedly up the stairs. For the first time since she'd become arranged to marry Tom Riddle, Bellatrix found herself rather distraught about the idea of leaving for school less than two weeks after her weddings. She was not excited to go back to Hogwarts, to go three and a half months without seeing him. Without kissing him.

But when she got back…

Her heart raced as she shut her eyes, and she clenched her hands into fists on her lap as she whispered one more time,

"Goodnight, My Lord."


	4. Diagon Alley

_23 August 1968_

 _Marsham House_

 _Broadway, Worcestershire_

"Enter." Voldemort looked up from his desk at the sound of knocking on his office door. Bellatrix came in and said cautiously,

"Sorry to bother you. I know you said you like to keep your office to yourself."

"It's not a bother." Voldemort sipped from his lemonade and shrugged. "Do you need something?"

"I was wondering if you could take me to my parents' house," Bellatrix said, and when Voldemort frowned in confusion, she specified, "So I can go shopping for school in Diagon Alley."

"Oh. Is that today?" Voldemort sipped the rest of his lemonade and slowly stood. "I'll take you."

"I couldn't trouble you with that," Bellatrix insisted, but Voldemort scoffed and reminded her,

"Your parents have to take Andromeda and Narcissa. And, anyway, you are my financial responsibility now, not theirs."

"Oh. I suppose that must have been part of the bargain," Bellatrix nodded, her cheeks pinking. "I shall be very judicious. I promise."

"Don't worry. It's no trouble. I am your husband. I genuinely do not mind taking you shopping," Voldemort said. _For school supplies,_ he added in his mind, his stomach churning. He came around his desk and sniffed lightly, going into a drawer along the wall and taking out a crushed velvet drawstring bag. He filled it with a handful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts. He cleared his throat and asked lightly,

"Are you in need of a new uniform this year?"

Bellatrix was quiet for a moment, and when he turned toward her, frowning, she knitted her hands before her shrugged a little. Her cheeks were scarlet.

"My robe fits fine," she said, "and so does my skirt; I haven't grown any taller. But my… chest…"

"No, it's fine; we'll get you whatever you need." Voldemort tossed a few more Galleons into his bag and thought over the last few days. He'd kissed her twice more. Once had been outside her bedroom door, after a day spent desperately trying _not_ to kiss her. The second time had been in the morning, before she'd gone to her parents' house for the day. He'd meant to just give her a little peck goodbye, but it had turned into pressing her against the front door of the house, his erection driving against her stomach as he crushed her mouth with his.

It was probably for the best that she was leaving for school in just over a week.

"Let's go by Side-Along," Voldemort suggested, holding out his arm. Bellatrix looked nervous, but she stepped up to him and took hold of his black robe sleeve. Voldemort Disapparated smoothly, coming to almost immediately in Diagon Alley, just outside Florean Fortescue's. Bellatrix stumbled and gagged, and he pressed his hand to her back and mumbled an anti-nausea charm. He helped her stand, and she muttered,

"I despise Apparation."

"You'll get used to it," he promised her, realising she wasn't even licenced yet. He gulped and rolled his neck. Diagon Alley was busy today, and many eyes were upon him. He was famous now, even if he wasn't powerful yet. People whispered about Lord Voldemort, about Tom Riddle, about the man who wanted to revive anti-Muggle-born sentiment. People eyed him with wonder, fear, derision, or respect, depending on who they were. Now people seemed curious, too, for everyone knew that the forty-one-year-old Tom Riddle had married the still sixteen-year-old Bellatrix Black.

"Everyone's staring," Bellatrix whispered, and Voldemort just said,

"Ignore them. We have shopping to do; they don't matter."

"Yes, My Lord," she huffed, and he couldn't help smiling down at her a little. Her breath shook as she pulled out her supply list. "Right. Let's go to Twillfit and Tattings first. I just need three new white shirts, two new sleeveless jumpers, and, erm… undergarments, so."

"I'll wait here." Voldemort pulled out a few coins and handed them to Bellatrix, and she was red-cheeked as she nodded and mumbled her thanks. She hurried off toward Twillfit and Tattings, and Voldemort stood in patient quiet as people passed him by.

"Mr Riddle!"

He looked up at the sound of the name, and he raised his brows when he saw Cygnus Black III walking toward him. Cygnus wouldn't normally use the name, but they were in public. Voldemort nodded crisply at the man who had been a younger student in school, who was now his father-in-law.

"Cygnus," he acknowledged. "Bellatrix just went off to get some new school clothes."

"Ah. She'll find her mother and sisters in there, then. I can't wait round in the robe shop with the ladies," Cygnus smiled. His grin faded a little as he asked, "How is she? How is she adjusting, I mean?"

"She seems happy," Voldemort promised. "She reads a lot. Takes tea in the conservatory."

 _Tastes like honey and smells like rain_ , he wanted to say, but he didn't. He flicked his eyes away from Cygnus, afraid his gaze would give him up. Cygnus said seriously,

"It was kind of you to bring her shopping today. I'm sure it meant the world to her."

"I'm her husband, Cygnus," Voldemort snapped. "It is my duty to take care of her. I promised you I would, and I shall."

"You are a man of your word," Cygnus nodded, and Voldemort felt the weight of the unspoken meaning there. He just nodded a little and told Cygnus,

"The Family Black will be of utmost significance in my movement. I hope you know."

"I do know. We are already honoured by your presence among us," Cygnus said.

"Daddy!"

Voldemort sighed as Bellatrix came trotting up, a brown paper bag over her arm. She embraced her father and explained,

"I only needed a few things. Andy and Cissy are getting whole new robes cut, looks like. Mum says she needs more coin, so you have to go back in there, I'm afraid."

"Of course she needs more coin." Cygnus rolled his eyes. "Good to see you, darling. Sir."

He bowed his head to Voldemort, who nodded crisply. Bellatrix smiled at her father as he walked off, and she held out her palm to Voldemort with two Galleons and a Sickle - the change from what she'd spent. He frowned.

"Are you certain you got what you needed?"

"Yes. Thank you." She looked at her list, pushed her pretty curls away from her face and said, "I need new books this year. _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6. Advanced Potion-Making. Confronting the Faceless. A Guide to Advanced Transfiguration. Advanced Rune Translation. Flesh-Eating Trees of the World._ "

"Oh. Well, you only need one of those," Voldemort shrugged, and Bellatrix frowned, shaking her head in confusion. Voldemort smirked and said, "Nevermind. I'm sure you don't want second-hand books."

"Second-hand books?" Bellatrix asked, and then realisation came over her face. "You kept your old school books?"

"Some of them," Voldemort nodded. "I kept my Potions text, my Transfiguration and Runes texts. And then I know that there are copies of _Confronting the Faceless_ and _Flesh-Eating Trees of the World_ on the shelves in the parlour. I remember putting them there. It's fine; we'll get you your own copies."

"No." Bellatrix shook her head, and a strange look came over her face. She licked her lip and said seriously, "I'd like to use yours."

Voldemort's stomach flopped, and he muttered, "I probably… doodled in the margins, so…"

She grinned. "Good."

"Well, you still need _Standard Book of Spells_ ," Voldemort said lightly, "so, off to Flourish and Blotts with us, eh?"

Flourish and Blotts was absolutely packed, so packed that Bellatrix seemed rather anxious about stepping inside. Voldemort peeked into her mind and sensed fear about getting crushed in the crowd, and he disliked feeling that from her. He leaned down and said in the gentlest voice he could manage,

"Wait outside. I'll buy the book and bring it to you."

She turned her face, panting with anxiety, and she whispered, "Are you certain, My Lord?"

"Go." He nodded, and she hurried away. He found a copy of the book on a high stack, and he himself was profoundly uncomfortable waiting on line to buy it.

"Going back to school, Mr Riddle?" he heard a wizard ask, and when he flicked his eyes to the side, he saw red-haired young wizard he instantly recognised as Arthur Weasley, a blood traitor. He was a seventh-year student at Hogwarts, a staunch proponent of equality between Muggles and magical people. Voldemort rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Silence, Weasley," he said, and Arthur scoffed.

"Has your child bride gone for ice cream whilst you buy her school supplies for her?"

 _Silencio,_ Voldemort incanted wandlessly and nonverbally. Arthur stomped his foot, opening his mouth and angrily trying to speak. Voldemort smirked as he set Bellatrix's textbook on the counter and plunked down one Galleon. He stepped away and tipped his head at Arthur Weasley.

"Cat got your tongue, Mr Weasley?" he asked, and then he nonverbally reinforced the Silencing Charm. He stalked quickly out of Flourish and Blotts and out into the street, where Bellatrix was waiting with a grateful look on her face. She grinned and said,

"I don't think I need anything else. I've got all my Potions supplies and everything from last term. And if you've got the other books…"

"I've got them," Voldemort said tightly. Bellatrix's smile faded.

"Something wrong?"

"If we've finished, let's go," he suggested, holding out his arm. Bellatrix's mouth fell open in surprise, but she took his arm and let him Disapparate. When they came to inside the foyer of Marsham House, Voldemort stalked into the foyer and wandlessly Summoned the specific books Bellatrix needed. He handed them to her and walked into his office, going to a shelf near his desk. It was where he kept the schoolbooks he'd kept in an Expanded bag when traveling around the Continent. He found his Potions, Runes, and Transfigurations texts, and he put the stack onto Bellatrix's overburdened arms. He sat down at his desk and said to her,

"Let me know if there's anything else you need."

"Erm… thank you, My Lord," Bellatrix said cautiously. She stumbled out of his office, leaving the door open since her arms were so full. Voldemort wandlessly pushed the door shut behind her.

* * *

"You're cross with me," Bellatrix said at the dinner table, but Voldemort shook his head and said honestly,

"I am cross, but not with you."

"What can I do?" Bellatrix asked. He raised his eyes to her, and he shrugged.

"Grow up a little."

She seemed very hurt by that, and her eyes actually welled as she told him, "I try my best. I try… to be a grown witch, and -"

"It is not your fault that I signed a contract to marry you before your birthday," Voldemort noted. "It is not your fault that your marriage was arranged with a wizard twenty-five years older than you. None of that is your fault. Still, I dislike the mockery."

"Mockery." Bellatrix looked more hurt than ever. She set down her knife and fork from her roast beef and asked cautiously. "Someone mocked you?"

"He is irrelevant; he is a blood traitor," Voldemort clipped, eating some of his own meat. "Anyway, I silenced him. Literally."

Bellatrix looked thoughtful for a long moment, as if she were trying to think about who she'd seen go into the shop. She finally nodded.

"Arthur Weasley."

"You're observant," Voldemort said. He sipped his red wine and murmured, "He is nothing. He is a meaningless man. And yet his particular word choice irked me in a troublesome way."

Bellatrix sipped her water; she wasn't old enough yet for wine. She shrugged and asked,

"What was his word choice, My Lord?"

He hesitated and then cleared his throat. "Erm… _child bride._ "

He swigged down the rest of his wine, and when it refilled itself, he drank the entirety of the glass in three swigs. When it refilled itself again, he drank it all, and then he thought he might be sick, so he stopped. By then, when he looked at Bellatrix, she seemed very angry. At first, Voldemort thought she was angry with him, but she shook her head rather wildly and insisted,

"He has no idea what he's talking about. I am not a child. I know far more magic than that Muggle-loving blood traitor could ever hope to know. I have a craving for the Dark Arts. I long to serve you as a soldier when your movement materialises - and I know it will materialise. And I know who you are and what you will become. If he knew, he would never speak to you like that. He'd have bowed his head and called you _Master_ if he knew what you'll become. My Lord."

Voldemort's jaw dropped at that. His heart was beating a tattoo in his chest, and there was heat in his ears. He pushed his chair back and stood slowly, staring at Bellatrix. She tipped her chin up, almost defiantly, and she whispered,

"I am not a child bride."

"No. You are not," Voldemort affirmed. He shut his eyes, dizzy with want, and he whispered, "I'm going to bed. Goodnight."

"What? It's half past seven," Bellatrix said confusedly. But Voldemort knew that if he stayed near Bellatrix right now, he was going to do all sorts of things that the provisional phase of their marriage did not allow. He gulped hard and held out his right hand.

" _Accio_ Dreamless Sleep."

As he drank a very large dose of it, he saw Bellatrix's face soften with realisation. She nodded a little as he set the little bottle on the table, and she rose and came around the table. She stood before Voldemort and put his hands on his chest.

"Go upstairs before you can't walk," she whispered, and he nodded.

"Goodnight," he replied. She leaned up onto her toes, and he took her face, bending to kiss her very gently. He touched his forehead to hers and whispered, "Bella?"

"Mmm-hmm."

Suddenly he was drowsy, dizzy and tired and swaying, and he mumbled in a slur,

"I am so very happy to be your husband, Bellatrix."

"Oh." She sounded emotional all of a sudden, and he distantly heard her whisper, "I am so very happy to be your wife, My Lord."

"Goodnight." He kissed her cheeks one at a time, then her lips, and as he stumbled away and heaved himself up the stairs, she called after him in a cracked little voice,

"Goodnight."

 **Author's Note: Raise your hand if you think it's cute that she has his books! Raise your other hand if you think they'll do *something* before she gets on the Hogwarts Express! Mwah hahaha. Thanks SO MUCH for all the feedback on this story. It's valued more than I can say.**


	5. We've Broken All The Rules

_31 August 1968_

 _Marsham House_

 _Broadway_

"Are you all packed up?" Voldemort spooned creamy potato stew into his mouth, and Bellatrix just nodded solemnly.

"I've got my school robes laid out for the morning," she said. "My trunk's all packed."

"We'll leave here at exactly ten," Voldemort said. "I'd like for you to have your choice of compartments on the train."

"Thank you." Bellatrix took a few spoonfuls of her stew, but her voice was thick, and Voldemort could tell she was trying not to cry. His own stomach hurt so badly that he finally just set his spoon down and decided he had finished eating. He scratched at his hair and wondered distantly how visible the little threads of grey in it were. He sighed.

"These past several weeks… erm…"

He struggled to find the right words then, and his eyes and throat felt bizarre. He stared at Bellatrix, who sniffed and rubbed at an eye as she gazed into her bowl of stew. Voldemort finally said,

"I am exceedingly glad to have married you. I think… I hope… that our marriage will be… something that brings us both…"

He couldn't speak. It didn't make sense; he was never short on words. But right now his nose was running a little. He dabbed his napkin there at shook his head in frustration, snarling quietly,

"You know, it's only one hundred and four days."

Bellatrix raised her face, and a single tear ran from her right eye. "A hundred and four days?"

"Between… between the first of September and the Christmas holidays," Voldemort specified. "One hundred and four days."

Somehow, saying that number did not seem to help at all. _Only_ three and a half months. Before he'd married Bellatrix, he had been looking forward to being able to ship his wife off to school for months at a time. But that had been before he'd realised she wouldn't be obnoxious. That had been before he'd realised he'd actually _enjoy_ being married, that he'd actually _want_ her.

"You like wine that is red and dry," Bellatrix said suddenly. Voldemort stared at her as she nodded and said, "Your surname tells me you are a Half-Blood at best, but that doesn't matter. You spent years learning the Dark Arts on the Continent. And you like wine that is red and dry. You like books. You like to listen to the Wireless when they play pieces for violin. You like deep red roses; that's why you planted them out back and have Tippy tend to them. You like your solitude, but you like power more. You keep the house quite cold with Chilling Charms in the summer, except for the conservatory, which is steamy like a jungle. And you like lemonade, and dry red wine."

He chewed his lip hard and nodded, tipping his head. That was more than most arranged wives could say about their husbands after only two weeks. Could he do as well for her, he wondered? He drummed his fingers on the table and said carefully,

"You read romance novels and history books. You're rotten with Ancient Runes and Divination, but you're brilliant with Charms and Transfiguration. Your hair annoys you, though I quite like it. You like to sit in the conservatory with tea and pretend you're somewhere exotic, like India. You don't mind being alone, but you prefer the company of one other person at a time. You despise being in a crowd. You only wear black if you help it, and someday you're going to torture someone. You're going to be a soldier. You don't want children, ever if you can help it, but at least not for a very long time. You've got better things to do. And sometimes you wish you were a character in one of those silly romance novels. You wish your rooms were green instead of blue. I can change that for you."

He said that last bit very quietly, for his eyes were searing and his throat was hurting, and tears were streaming down Bellatrix's face. Voldemort couldn't take this maudlin nonsense anymore. He Banished his dishes to the kitchen and rose, and he told her,

"I'm going to go work in my office for a while. I'll see you in the morning. Plan on leaving right at ten."

"Yes, My Lord," she whispered, sniffing and nodding.

* * *

Ten hours.

It was one o'clock in the morning. In ten hours exactly, the Hogwarts Express would be steaming away from King's Cross Station, bound for Scotland for three and a half months. Voldemort stared at his ceiling, his chest pounding.

"Bella," he whispered desperately. He pulled himself out of his bed and out of his room, staring at her door and willing himself not to go in there. He started to go a little hard in his pyjama trousers, wanting her badly. He left his bedroom door open and went down the stairs, fetching himself a bottle of red wine and a glass and going into the sitting room. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat on the sofa, staring at the wall in the darkness as he sipped.

After a while, he Summoned himself a book off the shelves, being arbitrary in what he selected. He smirked a little when he saw the cover in the moonlight. _Roses For Clementine_. He opened the book and tried to read the first page, but he was too distracted. He shut it and stroked the cover with shaking fingers as he drank his wine. Then, suddenly, he heard creaking on the stairs, and he froze.

She appeared in the open doorway of the sitting room, wearing nothing but a small black nightgown, and she said softly,

"Your bedroom door was open and you weren't in there. I thought you must have come downstairs."

"Mmm-hmm," Voldemort nodded. His heart managed to speed up even more as she approached him. She smiled down at the book in his lap as she sat beside him, her hair yanked back into a braid for the night, revealing her neck. He wanted to kiss her neck.

"Reading _Roses For Clementine?_ " Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shrugged.

"It came off the shelf. I… erm… too tired to read."

"Oh. Shall I read a page or two to you?" she suggested, and suddenly that sounded very nice. Voldemort sipped more of his wine, his cock starting to ache in his dark flannel pyjamas. Bellatrix picked up the book and held it in a patch of moonlight.

" _Once upon a time, there was a man called Johann Hemlitt. He was a wizard who lived amongst Muggles, using magic to craft the finest shoes they'd ever seen. He was madly in love with a witch called Clementine. Clementine was lovely, with raven hair and alabaster skin. She was the daughter of a -"_

"Bellatrix."

She stopped at the sound of her name, and Voldemort set down his wine glass and plucked the book from her hands. He put it on the table beside him and told her,

"You're leaving in the morning."

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes welling.

"I made a promise," Voldemort whispered desperately, but Bellatrix shrugged.

"I won't tell."

"Oh." Voldemort encouraged her to climb up onto his lap, and he touched his hand to her lower abdomen and wandlessly incanted, " _Nongravidare._ "

She seemed relieved after he cast the contraceptive charm, and she quickly and bravely peeled off her black nightgown, revealing a completely nude body beneath. Voldemort gasped and clutched at her waist, shocked to see her small breasts and her flat stomach revealed to him. He stared at her face, wide-eyed, and whispered,

"You're beautiful."

She smirked a little and started to unbutton his flannel shirt. He was so surprised by her boldness that he demanded,

"Have you done this before?"

"No," she said confidently. "I just know… erm… what I want."

"Oh." Voldemort chuckled a bit. "Good. Take what you want, Bella."

"Mmph." She pushed his shirt open and bent down to kiss him, but suddenly her confidence broke when she felt his erection beneath her. She pulled back and stared down, and she asked, "Is something… wrong?"

"What?" Voldemort shook his head and yanked his trousers down and off, kicking them away. Bellatrix recoiled a little from his cock, and now he was very sure she'd never seen one. She reached for it, and he sighed in pleasure as she wrapped her hands around it. She asked seriously,

"Will it hurt when it goes inside me?"

"Only a tiny bit, and only the first time," Voldemort promised. Bellatrix nodded bravely and started to climb on, but Voldemort stopped her and said,

"Wait… it's best if you're ready first."

"Ready?" Bellatrix whispered. "What do you mean?"

"If you're… you know…" Voldemort reached between her legs, expecting to feel dry folds there, but she was drenched and swollen. His eyebrows flew up and he tipped his head, smiling a little. "Actually, you're perfectly ready. Proceed."

Bellatrix laughed a little, moving up and forward, then sinking down with a little cry. Voldemort hissed as she sheathed him, so tight and warm that he could hardly stand it. When she burrowed her face into his neck, he requested,

"Kiss me there."

She did, lathing her tongue along his neck and under his ear. That felt so good - too good - and Voldemort soon pulled her face back, thinking she'd drive him over the edge like that. He took hold of her waist and started moving her, encouraging wave-like motions from her with one hand whilst he fondled a beautiful little breast with the other. He kissed her lips gently, and they stayed like that for a very long while. She ebbed and flowed atop him, kissing him, and he played with her soft breast and her nipple. It felt perfect, and it seemed to go on forever, until Bellatrix collapsed out of the kiss and whispered,

"Mmm! I'm going to… ahhh!"

"Yes. Yes." Voldemort helped her dig in, helped her move harder, faster, until he could feel her walls clenching around his cock and could feel her breath on his neck in urgent, hot huffs. She moaned for a long while then, her arms wrapped around his bare shoulders, and she whispered,

"Oh, that doesn't hurt at all. That feels so good."

"Bella." He could feel his own body starting to tighten up, starting to go hot and taut, and when he found his release inside of her, all he could do was kiss her hair and pet her back. It took a very long while to come down from that high, and they didn't move. She stayed cradled tightly against him, and he just held her, neither of them caring about his come leaking between them. Voldemort finally muttered,

"I'll write to you."

"How often?" Bellatrix demanded, and Voldemort curled up half his mouth.

"Often enough that you'll probably ask me to stop."

"All right," Bellatrix agreed. Voldemort decided to go one step further, kissing her hair again and saying,

"I'll send you little presents."

She pulled back a little, her eyes wet, and shook her head. "A master doesn't need to send his servant presents."

"A husband is permitted to send his wife presents," Voldemort said. "Besides. I am Lord Voldemort. I'll send presents to whomever I please."

She grinned then, and as he tucked her hair behind her ear, she informed him,

"You'll make all the others girls so jealous."

"Good," he said, narrowing his eyes. "I shall make it my mission to make you the most envied witch at Hogwarts."

Bellatrix tipped her forehead against his and admitted, "I wasn't planning on missing you, My Lord."

"No. I wasn't planning on missing you, either," he said. He glanced at the two of them and added, "I wasn't planning on doing this. I wasn't planning on a lot of things. Ah, well."

"We should get some sleep," Bellatrix sighed, "but I don't want to let go of you."

Suddenly Voldemort had a very wild idea, and he cleared his throat as his softened cock slid out of Bellatrix's body at last.

"Seeing as how we've rather broken all the rules," he said, "what would you say to spending your last night before going back to school in… in my bed?"

Her face lit up then, as if he'd told her that she'd won some sort of fantastic prize. He cleaned them both up and they pulled on their pyjamas and headed upstairs. As he spooned behind her in his brown bed, one arm curled over her little body, he tried to tell himself it would only be three and a half months. He'd send her letters. She'd (hopefully) write back. He had other work to do whilst she was at school - fundraising and speech-giving. It was only one hundred and four days, he told himself.

But as she drifted off to sleep and he lay in restless silence beside her, one hundred and four days seemed like a very, very long time.

 **Author's Note: Okay. All the rules are broken. BUT. Now she's off to school. What will her dynamic with the other students be like now that she's married? And what will these letters and presents be like? Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? :}**


	6. It's Madam Riddle

_1 September, 1968_

 _King's Cross Station_

 _London_

"You seem so serene today, darling," said Druella Black to Bellatrix. She just smiled a little, not telling her mother that she'd taken a drop of Draught of Peace to prevent herself from crying on the train platform. She embraced her mother and promised her,

"We'll visit over the Christmas holidays, Mum."

"Of course, dear. Though I'm well aware of how things have changed," Druella sighed. Cygnus embraced his eldest daughter lightly and asked her,

"Have you everything you need, Bellatrix?"

"Yes. My husband's seen to everything," Bellatrix said in an airy voice. Cygnus and Druella eyed one another, and then Druella said,

"Well. You should go tell him farewell. He looks anxious."

"Right. Bye, Mum. Daddy." Bellatrix squeezed their hands and walked away, off toward Voldemort, who had been standing with her trunk. It was gone now, and as Bellatrix came up, he told her,

"They've loaded your trunk. Here's your rucksack."

She accepted her leather cross-body bag from him and frowned, for it felt very light. He smiled a little and shrugged.

"I've placed a permanent Lightening Charm upon it," he said. "The sort that won't wear off. You could carry all your books at once in it and not feel it."

"Thank you," Bellatrix nodded. She reached for his hand, and he whispered carefully,

"I can't… can't kiss you goodbye here."

"I know." She gave him a sad little smile and reminded him, "You gave me quite a kiss goodbye in the foyer just before we came here. And in bed this morning."

"Yes." Voldemort let out a long sigh and dragged his teeth over his lips. "A hundred a four days. Not so very bad."

"No. Not with letters," Bellatrix said.

"Plenty of letters," he told her. "Now go. I wanted you here early, and now you're among the last on the train."

She grinned apologetically and felt her chest ache. She looked around and begged him desperately,

"Break the rules."

"I can't." He shook his head and rubbed at her hand with his thumb. His eyes shone strangely as he instructed her, "Be well and happy."

"Yes, My Lord," she nodded, and then her breath shook and she could feel the Draught of Peace wearing off, her emotion pushing through it. "Goodbye."

"Bye." He let go of her and backed away, and Bellatrix whirled, striding quickly toward the train. Once she was situated alone in a compartment, she waved at her mother and father, who were also obviously waving at Andromeda and Narcissa further down the train. Then she looked for Voldemort, but he'd already gone. She knew why. Things had been getting very emotional.

"There you are!"

A half hour into the journey, two young witches came into Bellatrix's compartment, and she tried to smile. Opal Rowle and Calla Greengrass were two Slytherin girls in Bellatrix's year, girls with whom she was relatively friendly. Their fathers had been friends of Lord Voldemort's when he'd been a young Tom Riddle, she'd learnt over the last few weeks. As they sat, they noticed Bellatrix's sorrowful face, and Opal asked,

"Bellatrix, are you… are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Bellatrix lied, leaning her head against the window. Opal scowled at Calla, who guessed,

"Is marriage as miserable as that?"

"Entirely the opposite," Bellatrix asserted. "It was difficult to leave him. That's all."

The other girls looked completely awed then. Opal scoffed quietly, tucking her short auburn hair behind her ears.

"You've only really known him for a few weeks, and he's not allowed to touch you. But you're this sad leaving him?"

"Yes," Bellatrix mumbled. Calla Greengrass, a stick-thin blonde with ice-blue eyes, marveled,

"He must be very good to you to make you so fond of him in so short a time."

"You two are awfully nosy," Bellatrix complained. The other girls shut up about Voldemort then, and instead they chatted about Calla's family holiday to Paris whilst Bellatrix stared out the window. Eventually, the trolley witch came, and Bellatrix forced herself to pull out her purse of coins as she said,

"I'd like a pumpkin pasty. And a Gillywater."

"Four Sickles, dear," said the trolley witch, preparing the order. Bellatrix reached into her drawstring bag, frowning when she felt something hard and square. She pulled it out and realised it was a jewellery box. There was folded parchment on the top, bound with Spell-O-Tape. Bellatrix stared at it for a moment, and then Opal asked with a mouthful of Chocolate Frog,

"Wuss dat?"

"I don't know," Bellatrix admitted. She mindlessly handed over four Sickles to the trolley witch and accepted her bottle of Gillywater, which she put into the holder beside her, and her wrapped pumpkin pasty. The trolley witch wheeled away and shut the door, and then Calla Greengrass exclaimed,

"Open it! What is it?"

"There's a note," Bellatrix said. Her heart raced as she pulled off the folded parchment. At first she considered keeping the note private, but then she remembered Voldemort's promise to try and make her the most envied witch in Hogwarts. Once she read the little note, her eyes welled very heavily, and she wasn't certain if she'd be able to read it anyway.

"What does it say?" whispered Opal, and Calla stayed quiet. Bellatrix said in a thick voice,

" _The first of many little presents. Happy Start of Term._ That's all it says."

"How romantic," Opal breathed, and Calla asked gently,

"What's the present, Bellatrix?"

She cracked open the little jewellery box and gasped. She turned it around to show the other girls, and Opal's eyes went round.

"Put them on!" she exclaimed. Bellatrix pulled out the black pearl stud earrings one at a time and put them into her ears. They were large, green-overtoned pearls, absolutely lovely. She pulled her hair behind her shoulders and asked,

"How do they look?"

Both of the other girls seemed very envious then, and Calla marveled,

"You look lovely. They're beautiful. I rather wish my father had married me off to a man like that."

"So do I," Opal complained, and Bellatrix just smirked a little. She stared at her reflection in the train's window, touching gently at the black pearl earrings, and she grinned.

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _I hope breakfast this morning was delicious. When I was a student at Hogwarts, which was admittedly a very long time ago, the food was exceptional. I hope that is still the case for you. If you're anything at school like you are at home, you'll be eating a grapefruit cut in half, sprinkled with salt, with a bit of bacon on the side._

Bellatrix smiled broadly as she spooned some salted grapefruit into her mouth and eyed the plate that had held two slices of back bacon before she'd eaten it. An owl had come on this, the first full day of lessons, with a letter, and she'd eagerly opened it. She continued reading now, feeling very content.

 _I know that you will be pleased to know this, seeing as how you do care deeply about my plans. I am scheduled to speak at a party at a private home this weekend. Approximately thirty are expected to attend, and I will be both fundraising and attempting to gain new allegiances. I will, of course, update you on how well the speech goes._

 _There is something you can do for me at Hogwarts. Carefully include for me in your letters any activity you find interesting in either direction. I'm sure you know precisely what I mean; you're an intelligent witch._

 _I hope my school books serve you well in your lessons. I took the liberty of reinforcing their bindings before you left to ensure they don't fall apart on you._

 _Be well._

 _L.V._

Bellatrix held his letter close to her chest. She was to be his spy, then. She could do that. She flicked her eyes up to Albus Dumbledore, who was in his very first year as Headmaster after Armando Dippet had retired. Dumbledore had never trusted Tom Riddle, she knew, and he'd spoken out against any burgeoning movement growing under Lord Voldemort. Dumbledore glanced back at Bellatrix, and she knew he'd be keeping a close eye on her. She was an obvious choice of spy for Voldemort; she'd have to be remarkably careful in writing to him.

She folded up his letter and stuck it into her bag, knowing she had to hurry to Potions. As she made her way down to the dungeons with the other sixth-year Slytherins and Gryffindors, she couldn't stop thinking of certain things he'd said. He'd called her intelligent. He'd told her about a speech he was giving. He'd known what she'd be eating for breakfast. She wanted to be with him.

In the Potions classroom, Opal and Calla sat beside each other, leaving Bellatrix alone at a table until Rodolphus Lestrange, another sixth-year Slytherin, gestured beside her and asked,

"This seat taken?"

"No. Hi, Rodolphus."

"Hi, Bella," Rodolphus said. Bellatrix frowned. Rodolphus was a bit too familiar for her liking; he had been the whole previous year, too. He was a burly Quidditch player, and he was ungainly as he moved to take out his scales and other Potions supplies. He joked, "So, you got your ball and chain over the summer, eh?"

"I'm married, yes, if that's what you mean," Bellatrix frowned.

"But it's all just for show, isn't it?" Rodolphus asked. Bellatrix scowled.

"For show?"

"It's just so he could marry into an aristocratic Pureblood family," Rodolphus shrugged, "and so your father could become prominent in his movement."

Bellatrix's cheeks reddened, and she huffed, "I'm really married. Believe me."

Rodolphus grinned. "I'll take your word for it."

"Please do." Bellatrix sat down and glared at Rodolphus. She pulled out her copy of _Advanced Potions-Making_ , and when she opened the cover, the inside label that had been pasted in read, " _This Book Is Property of Tom Marvolo Riddle._ " Her heart hammered at that, and she slammed the book shut and snapped at Rodolphus again,

"I'm really married."

Rodolphus gulped visibly, his face going serious. "Right. All right."

Bellatrix didn't speak another word to him through most of the lesson, as Professor Slughorn directed them on the subtle difference between brewing liquids and gels. They were instructed to turn to page sixteen of the book, and when they did, Bellatrix found a little scrap of parchment that read,

 _If you're reading this in your first lesson of term, then Horace Slughorn really needs to shake up his curriculum._

She giggled suddenly, so loudly that Professor Slughorn paused in his lecturing and asked,

"Is everything all right, Miss Black?"

She went serious then, stifling her laughter, and she corrected him, "It's Madam Riddle, sir."

"Oh, yes. Of course. Congratulations," Slughorn said, frowning a bit. Bellatrix read her husband's note again and grinned to herself. Perhaps the next few months, she thought, didn't have to be complete and utter misery.

 **Author's Note: Well, isn't he just the cutest thing. But how will his speech go? And will there be drama between Dumbledore and Bellatrix, or Rodolphus and Bellatrix? And can you tell I've had a severe bout of hypergraphia over the last few days? Sorry for so many updates; thank you for bearing with me!**


	7. Shut Up

_4 September, 1968_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"Your attention, please. Your attention, please! Silence!"

Dumbledore's amplified voice made the Great Hall fall silent. Everyone had finished dinner, at the plates were clearing. Dumbledore stepped up to the podium and said with a happy smile,

"This year, the first of my tenure as Headmaster, I wish to begin our school term on a very happy note. Therefore, we will all of us partake in a Start of Term Ball."

He waited for the titters and whispers to die down. Bellatrix glared at him, and he glanced at her for a moment before continuing matter-of-factly,

"In order for our school to feel like a family, attendance at the ball is mandatory."

"Mandatory?" Bellatrix hissed. "He can't do that."

"I'm sure you go alone," Calla whispered, but Dumbledore held up a hand and said simply,

"Furthermore, I ask that you kindly say yes to the first person who asks you to attend as their date. Turning down a request will be punishable with lost House points, as I view this rudeness to be quite unacceptable. We are all of us Hogwarts students, and we shall all celebrate together."

"No," Bellatrix whispered, shaking her head. She narrowed her eyes up at Dumbledore. He smirked then, flicking his eyes to her, and he told everyone,

"Dismissed."

Everyone began racing about then, asking one another to attend the dance with each other. Bellatrix started shoving her books into her rucksack, desperate to get out of the Great Hall before anyone could ask her. She started to hurry away, but of course Rodolphus Lestrange appeared in front of her. He had a cheeky smile on his face, and he shrugged.

"Well, Bella?" he said. "It's just a ball. Will you go with me?"

"Apparently, I have no choice," Bellatrix snarled. "Fine. Keep your damned hands to yourself, Lestrange."

"Meet you in the Common Room on Saturday, then," Rodolphus called after her as she rotated on a foot and stomped up toward the Head Table. Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for her. She glared at him as he gave her a very peaceful look in response.

"Good evening, Miss Black," he said, and she growled,

"It's Madam Riddle. Sir."

"Ah, yes." He nodded and tipped his head. "My condolences on having to marry so very young. How fortunate you are to be able to let loose with a boy your own age at a fun little party, hm?"

"It's illegal," Bellatrix informed him. "I'm married. You can't make me dance with another wizard. That's adultery."

Voldemort raised his grey brows. "Who said anything about dancing, my dear? You're attending as his date. Nothing more. I'm sure Tom would understand entirely."

"Oh, you're sure of that, are you? Sir?" Bellatrix asked, feeling very angry. Dumbledore stared at her over his half-moon spectacles and said slowly,

"Watch that tone, Miss Black."

"It's Madam Riddle," she said through clenched teeth, "Sir."

"Well. I think Mr Lestrange will enjoy whatever time you spend with him as friends, Madam Riddle," said Dumbledore. Bellatrix shook her head and stomped off, the last student out of the Great Hall.

* * *

 _It doesn't sound as though Dumbledore gave you much of a choice. Just make yourself look pretty and dance with the boy. I know where I stand._

 _L.V._

Bellatrix read the letter he'd replied with for the sixth time. She sighed and stared into the full-length mirror in the Slytherin girls' dormitory.

"You look so beautiful," Opal said enviously. Bellatrix glanced over to where Opal stood, plump and a little lumpy, in her jade green dress. Calla looked pretty in fluffy pale pink. Bellatrix had opted for a strapless, form-fitting black silk dress that hit her knees, along with elbow-length black gloves. She'd pulled her hair back into a twist and had worn the black pearl earrings Voldemort had sent her. She had also pulled on the matching pearl pendant that had come by owl this morning, a gift from her husband to wear to the Start of Term ball.

"I don't want to go," Bellatrix complained, and Opal rolled her eyes.

"He's not even here, Bella."

Bellatrix shook her head and touched at her necklace and earrings. "You couldn't understand."

"You haven't even slept with him!" Opal exclaimed, and Bellatrix lowered her eyes. The silence in the dormitory was deafening, until Calla asked quietly,

"Have you?"

"None of your business," Bellatrix mumbled. Opal gasped, and Bellatrix insisted loudly,

"It was once. _Once_. Right before we left for school. It was just over a week ago. It was… you couldn't understand."

"He's not meant to do that," Opal snapped, and Bellatrix whirled on her.

"Stay out of my marriage, you fat cow."

"Bellatrix!" Calla cried, and Opal went red-faced and slapped Bellatrix's cheek hard.

"Whore!" she said. "Can't even last until December. And he's a damned pervert."

Bellatrix shoved Opal as hard as she could, sending her catapulting against the post of Calla's bed.

"Stop!" Calla shrieked. "Stop, Bella, no!"

Bellatrix had pulled out her wand, and she was aiming it, shaking, at Opal, who scowled and insisted,

"My father works for the Ministry. I'm going to write to him and -"

"You make an enemy of my husband, and you'll regret it forever," Bellatrix informed her. "Your brother Thorfinn desperately wants into the movement. You want to ruin it for him, Opal? You want to make the Rowle family enemies of the future?"

"You think awfully highly of Tom Riddle," Opal said, standing up and straightening her mussed hair. She sniffed. "But from what I've heard, he's struggling to make friends and get funding. I'm writing to my father. Telling him that Tom Riddle is a pervert who -"

" _Silencio!"_ Bellatrix cried, and Calla Greengrass marched up and snatched Bellatrix's wand right out of her hand. She aimed her own wand at Opal and said,

" _Finite Incantatem._ Bellatrix Riddle, fifteen points from Slytherin!"

Calla was a Prefect, and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes at her as she grabbed her wand back and shoved it into her Expanded handbag.

"So sorry, Opal," she mumbled, and she stormed out of the girls' dormitory. She practically dashed down the corridor to the Common Room, and out there she found Rodolphus Lestrange waiting for her.

"Let's go," she said.

"You look pretty," Rodolphus told her, and Bellatrix snapped,

"Shut up."

She refused to dance with Rodolphus at the ball. She sulked in a corner, glaring daggers at Opal and Calla and Rodolphus and Dumbledore. She chugged Gillywater-Cranberry punch until she needed a lavatory, and then she stomped out of the Great Hall.

When she came out of the bathroom, Rodolphus was waiting for her.

"What do you want?" Bellatrix asked, and he reached for her elbow as he said quietly,

"You don't have to lose your freedom."

"Get away from me," Bellatrix snarled, going for her handbag so she could get her wand. Rodolphus put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently until she was up against the stone wall, and Bellatrix shoved roughly at his chest. He was entirely too strong.

"Get away from me!" she exclaimed again, and Rodolphus started to bend his face like he meant to kiss her.

"No!" Bellatrix screamed. "Get the hell away from me!"

"Mr Lestrange!" burred a Scottish voice. Rodolphus turned around, and Bellatrix panted as she saw Minerva McGonagall, the new Transfigurations professor, standing with her wand aimed at Rodolphus.

"Madam Riddle, if you'll kindly wait here," she said. "Lestrange, come with me. Now."

Bellatrix shook where she stood, and she looked around the corridor in silence as McGonagall led an angry-looking Lestrange into the Great Hall. A few moments later, Dumbledore came out with Rodolphus, leading him away, and McGonagall was back. She carefully took Bellatrix down the corridor to a quieter spot, and she asked,

"Do you require a medical examination of any sort?"

"Medical… no." Bellatrix shook her head, her eyes welling. "No, ma'am."

"What did he do to you?" McGonagall asked patiently. Bellatrix started to cry then, despite herself. She was full of rage, and yet the tears came. She'd have mascara running down her cheeks, she thought distantly.

"He told me I didn't have to… to lose my freedom," Bellatrix said honestly. "He pushed me up against a wall. He… was… about to kiss me."

"Against your will?" McGonagall asked, and when Bellatrix nodded, McGonagall said very regretfully, "I suppose… erm… we'll have to notify your father. Or… well, it'll have to be Mr Riddle."

"Notify him?" Bellatrix felt afraid all of a sudden, and McGonagall nodded.

"Professor Dumbledore will write to him, asking him to come, and the three of you will discuss the matter. Owing to the fact that you are still sixteen and, under the terms of a provisional marriage, Mr Riddle is your legal guardian."

"Wait." Bellatrix shook her head. "You're going to bring my husband here? To meet with… with Albus Dumbledore?"

McGonagall put her lips into a straight line and tipped her head. "Believe me, Madam Riddle, I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea. Now. Let's get you to the Infirmary. You may not realise it now, but you're going to want some Draught of Peace."

 **Author's Note: Dumbledore and Voldemort meeting to discuss the fact that Bellatrix got assaulted by her date a ball that Dumbledore made mandatory?**

 **This should go well.**


	8. More Than A Little Dead

"Dumbledore, what have you done?" Voldemort came bursting into the Headmaster's office after being admitted by Minerva McGonagall downstairs. Albus Dumbledore was waiting calmly at his desk, and Voldemort stormed up to him. "What have you done?"

"Calm down, Tom. Would you care for a Sugared -"

"I don't want candy, old man," Voldemort sneered. He paced in front of Dumbledore's desk and demanded, "What happened to her? What happened to Bella?"

"Bella," Dumbledore repeated, and Voldemort shut his eyes, realising he'd revealed a weakness. Dumbledore noted quietly, "You care for her."

"What of it? I am her husband," Voldemort snapped, still pacing past Dumbledore's clutter of instruments and devices. He glared at the young phoenix that was staring at him, and Dumbledore said stoically,

"I would not have pegged you as a caring husband, Tom. Or should I call you Lord Voldemort, as you prefer?"

"Let us put aside our personal differences. For once," Voldemort suggested, stopping his pacing and crossing his arms. "I am willing to at least give the illusion of a truce, Dumbledore, for the sake of Bellatrix. I need to know what happened to her."

Dumbledore seemed shocked by that, and Voldemort scoffed.

"I am a human being," he whispered, "and she is my wife."

Dumbledore just nodded then, and he slowly stood.

"At the ball," he began, and Voldemort interrupted,

"The ball you forced her to attend, almost certainly to spite me. That ball? Yes?"

Dumbledore waited a moment, and the portraits of other Headmasters behind him looked uncomfortable. Dumbledore sighed and said,

"At the ball, Bellatrix went to the girls' bathroom. When she came out, a boy was there. Her date."

"Rodolphus Lestrange," Voldemort said angrily, and Dumbledore warned him,

"If that boy dies, there will be no doubt who did it."

"Mmm-hmm," Voldemort nodded. He tipped his head. "I'll bide my time. Anyway. What did the boy do to her? I'm sure you used Legilimency to be certain."

"I did." Dumbledore nodded and seemed hesitant to inform Voldemort. "He took hold of her elbow and told her she needn't lose her freedom. She told him to go away. He didn't listen; he pushed her shoulders until she was trapped against a wall. She tried to take out her wand, but he was physically too strong for her to do it. He was about to kiss her - his mind showed the intentions of doing worse - when she screamed. Professor McGonagall heard and broke up the situation."

Voldemort's eyes seared badly then. He was unexpectedly emotional at the idea of someone else laying hands on Bellatrix, at the idea of her trying to get her wand and failing. He made a guttural sort of noise and willed the water out of his eyes, and he asked roughly,

"Where is she?"

"It's three in the morning, Tom," Dumbledore said. "I think you should go home, and -"

"I want to see her," Voldemort insisted. "Where is she?"

"She's in the Infirmary," Dumbledore said plainly. "She was dosed with Draught of Peace, and she's asleep now. She's the only student there, since it's the start of term. If you really wish to see her -"

"I demand to see her," Voldemort hissed. "You let my wife get assaulted at your school; you're lucky I don't see to it that the entire Board shut this place down."

"There's no need for threats, Tom," Dumbledore said lightly, but Voldemort leaned onto the desk and snarled,

"You. You forced her to say yes to that boy. You forced to go with him, to make him think he had some right to touch her. This is all your fault. This is on your hands, Dumbledore. I should kill you."

"Well, there wouldn't be any doubt about that, either, Tom," Dumbledore said, and he glanced to all the portraits behind him. Most of them had doubles somewhere else, Voldemort knew. He could destroy all of them and they'd still go tattle that he'd threatened Dumbledore if something were to happen. He tried to calm his temper, and he said seriously,

"I want to see my wife. Now."

* * *

"Give us privacy, Dumbledore," Voldemort whispered as he sat in a chair beside Bellatrix's hospital bed. She was still wearing her black cocktail dress, and his throat tightened when he saw that she had on the black pearl earrings and matching necklace that he'd sent her. As Dumbledore walked away, very hesitantly, Voldemort reached for Bellatrix's hand and squeezed a little. She squirmed and moaned quietly in protest, but Voldemort informed her,

"It's me, Bella."

"My Lord," she whispered, and her eyes fluttered open. Her face fell to the side, and he could tell at once that she was still heavily drugged. She smiled serenely and brushed her thumb over his. "What a pleasant dream, to think you're here."

"I am here," he said. "You're not dreaming. I've just met with Dumbledore. Threatened to kill him."

Bellatrix chuckled softly, but then her smile vanished, and she said regretfully,

"I've got so many enemies now. I called Opal Rowle a fat cow, and she says she's going to write to her father about you."

Voldemort frowned. "What about me?"

"That you and I had sex," Bellatrix said worriedly. Voldemort smirked, and she insisted, "It's not funny. You'll get in trouble."

"No, I won't," he told her. "Technically, it's legal. Frowned upon, but legal. Fat cow, though? You'll have to repair that. I'm not worried about Opal Rowle, I must confess."

"I'm fine." Bellatrix's eyes welled, and Voldemort leaned toward her and whispered,

"Someday I will tear that boy limb from limb for you. I will tear him into pieces. Do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lord." She seemed to want a kiss badly, and he wanted nothing more than to give him one, but he limited himself to sitting up and bringing her knuckles to his lips. He nodded and said in a voice low enough that Dumbledore couldn't hear,

"I'll destroy that boy for you, Bella. Don't you worry. Go back to sleep."

She already had done so, and so he just rubbed her hand for another few moments, and when he stood, he whispered,

"Goodnight, Bella."

Then he stalked out of the Infirmary, and he informed Albus Dumbledore,

"Someday, Dumbledore, when that boy turns up more than a little dead… it will have been me."

* * *

Voldemort cleared his throat and stood at the front of the Mulciber family sitting room, where several dozen interested witches and wizards had gathered for a cocktail party the next evening.

"My friends," Voldemort said confidently. "How very grateful I am to all of you for coming to hear my message. And how very grateful I am to Morton Mulciber and his lovely wife for hosting us."

Everyone applauded, and Voldemort continued,

"For entirely too long, the influence of the Muggle world has seeped into the magical world. Too many of our devices are modified versions of Muggle technology. We glorify their weak inventions and then turn them into magical versions. We take cues from their fashions. We even allow ourselves to marry and breed with them."

People began to hiss, to boo and groan, and Voldemort smirked.

"The Americans had it quite right with Rappaport's Law, which strictly prohibited any mingling of the worlds. Under the law, nearly every witch and wizard in America was pure. But there were those who pined for Muggle ways, for Muggle friends and Muggle spouses. And so their just and righteous laws were overturned."

There was more booing, more anger, and Voldemort waited for it to die down. He raised his voice and said,

"I wish for a wizarding Britain wherein witches and wizards live entirely separate from the Muggle filth that surrounds us!"  
"Yes!" cried a voice, and Voldemort grinned.

"I will lead us into a magical tomorrow, free from the oppressive backwardness of Muggle treachery! The misery brought to us by the presence of Mudbloods in our midst… the disgusting influence of mixed households. All of this will end under my plans!"

"Huzzah!" cried three or four voices.

"Come to my assistance with funding and support," Voldemort exclaimed, "and I promise you that as early supporters of my cause, it will be you who sit atop the pile. It will be you who sit on thrones of blood purity, you who reign as the purest class among our newly pure wizarding Britain. Who will help me?"

"I will!" cried Hector Avery, and he was joined by Larkin Crabbe and then ten others.

"For the purity of wizarding Britain!" Voldemort cried, and the room erupted in cheers. He grinned to himself, realising his movement had begun at last.

* * *

 _Creaflora_. _Happy Birthday._ Voldemort blew on the little card and tied it to the twine around the book he'd wrapped up. It was a copy of _Roses For Clementine,_ a new leather-bound copy he'd found at Flourish and Blotts. Voldemort tied the book to the ankle of the owl who he'd rented for the day… well, one of four he'd rented for the day. He sent the owl out of his office, bound for Scotland.

This was the third gift he was sending to Bellatrix. The first had been a bouquet of deep red roses from the garden, mixed with stephanotis like her wedding flowers, which had been set to arrive during breakfast along with a lengthy letter wishing her a most happy birthday. The second gift had arrived during lunchtime and had been a new hair comb in silver and black pearls to match the jewellery he'd already bought her. The third was the book he was now sending her, which would arrive during dinner.

And now he prepared the last item, which was a simple sheet of parchment to go out by owl the moment he managed to write it. His hand shook like mad as he finally brought his quill to the paper and scrawled,

 _Bella, I miss you terribly and dream of you every night. In my dreams, I kiss you. I do more than that. The mere thought of brushing my fingers along your skin drives me to madness. Think of me sometimes, will you? Happy birthday. Yours in eternity, L.V._

Before he could stop himself, he blew on the little note, folded it up, sealed it, and tied it to the owl. He opened the window and practically shoved the owl out, breathing heavily through his nose and feeling very foolish as he watched the owl fly away. He thought about killing the owl, shooting it out of the sky, but instead he watched the idiotic, maudlin letter fly away, wondering what Bellatrix would think when she read it.

 **Author's Note: I have a "childless lounge day" today allowing me to write so much, so thanks for putting up with my output! I do understand that when I update this fast, I inevitably get fewer reviews, so I want to say thank you so, so much for the feedback I have gotten. Onwards!**


	9. Hogsmeade

It took Bellatrix until the middle of October to properly heal things up with her roommates. By then, it was as if nothing between them had ever happened, and she and Opal and Calla were able to walk happily as a group out of the castle and down toward Hogsmeade village. It was a chilly Saturday, drizzling rain, so all three girls wore rain proofed cloaks.

Things were more peaceful for Bellatrix now that Rodolphus had been expelled, but she missed Voldemort like mad. They exchanged letters on alternating days - he'd write to her one day, and she'd write the next. Still, so much time had gone by that she barely remembered him. His face, the smell of him. She couldn't quite recall the colour of blue in her bedroom at Marsham House, either.

"What shall we do in Hogsmeade today, ladies?" asked Calla, and Opal suggested,

"I'm freezing. Let's go get some tea and biscuits in Madam Pudifoot's."

They did just that, settling into a little table and sipping on peppermint tea with chocolate chunk biscuits. They were chatting about tomorrow's Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor when Opal Rowle froze, her eyes going wide. She dropped her biscuit and whispered,

"Bellatrix, your husband just walked in."

"What?" Bellatrix flew to her feet and whirled, and her jaw dropped as she saw Voldemort stooping through the door of Madam Pudifoot's. He lowered the hood of his long cloak and smirked a little at her, and as he approached, she couldn't help herself. She dashed up to him and threw her arms around him, and he actually rubbed between her shoulders a little. The tea shop got very quiet then, and Voldemort said softly,

"Can we go somewhere a little more private?"

"Yes," Bellatrix breathed. She nodded fervently up at him, and he walked with her to the table where she'd been sitting. He gave the other girls pleasant looks as he put a few coins down to pay for Bellatrix's tea and biscuit, and he said,

"Miss Greengrass. Miss Rowle. Good day."

"Good day, sir," they said in unison, and Bellatrix grinned at them as she slipped her hand into Voldemort's. She let him lead her out of the tea shop, and when they were outside, he whispered down to her,

"We have to hurry if I'm going to have you back with plenty of time."

"Back?" she marveled, and he just nodded.

"I'm taking you home for an hour or two. I want to… I want to take you."

"Oh." Bellatrix's heart fell. "I'm bleeding."

He looked disappointed for a half moment, but then he shrugged. "No matter. I'll just kiss you."

She nodded, and they went to a quiet place between two buildings. She took his sleeve, and he Disapparated quickly and quietly. Suddenly Bellatrix was in Marsham House with him, and as she looked around, she grinned and reminded him,

"I could be expelled for this."

"Oh, well, then you'd be home with me all the time," he told her, and she laughed. He seized her face and kissed her hard, and Bellatrix groaned. She'd forgotten what this was like, what it was like to have his tongue slip between her lips. She'd forgotten the heady taste of him, the feel of his robes clenched in her fingers. He started to back her up against a wall, and it was so very different from when Rodolphus had done it. She reached between them for his cock, feeling it as a bulge in his trousers, and she said desperately,

"I want to play with it."

"I will not object," Voldemort said breathlessly. Bellatrix smiled up at him and began to fumble with his robes, trying hard to get to the buttons of his trousers. She finally scowled and complained,

"Too many layers."

"Let me help you." He shucked his cloak and his outer robe, and then he stood there in his tunic and trousers. He unbuttoned the trousers and yanked down on the waist a little, and when he pulled his cock out, Bellatrix made a hungry, desperate sound.

"Oh… I… need to taste it," she said on instinct.

"What?" Voldemort asked in disbelief. Bellatrix started to sink to her knees, unsure of why. She stared up at him and shrugged.

"I need it in my mouth."

"Oh. All right." Voldemort licked his lip. "No teeth. No teeth; I'm quite serious."

"No teeth," she repeated. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft and licked at his tip a few times as though he were an ice cream cone. Voldemort leaned onto the wall with one hand and whispered,

"Oh, I like that."

"Mmm?" Bellatrix raised her eyes to him, pumping her hand a little and swirling her tongue more firmly around his tip. She began to suckle him there, and when she saw how very much he liked _that_ , she pulled him more deeply into her mouth. When she felt like she'd gag, she just kept on swallowing, barrelling through the sensation until it passed. She pulled and pulled at him with her throat, pumping her hand behind her. Her left hand stroked his hip and up to his stomach, and his own hands tangled into her curls.

"Bella, you need to… oh… I'm going to… _oh!"_

Suddenly her mouth was filled with an extremely bitter, metallic taste that made her want to be sick. She managed to swallow it down, but it was rather revolting. So that was what come tasted like, she marveled? It was somewhat disgusting. She tried not to show him that, tried just to lick him clean, but he seemed to know. He whispered over and over,

"Sorry. Sorry. Oh, I'm sorry. It felt so good; I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Bellatrix fibbed, but Voldemort wandlessly Summoned something. Bellatrix was grateful when a handful of candies from his office came flying, and she stuffed them all into her mouth to mask the taste of the come. When she stood, chewing and swallowing the candy, Voldemort winced and tucked himself away.

"That did feel marvelous," he informed her, and he Scoured out her mouth for her. She appreciated that, because it meant she could kiss him again. They spent the next ten minutes or so kissing, then they went to sit on the sofa in the parlour. Bellatrix curled up against Voldemort, leaning against his shoulder, and she informed him,

"I miss you at school, but I am so pleased to hear of the progress of your movement, My Lord."

"Bella."

She raised her eyes to him, and he stared down at her with a strange look in his eyes. He huffed a little breath and said,

"Though our time together has been very brief, I… I want you to know that I…"

He was silent then, as if the words were frozen on his lips. Bellatrix's heart began to race, and she just waited until Voldemort said,

"I… I care for you. I care very deeply for you. I care profoundly for you."

She curled up her lips and nodded. "I care for you, too, My Lord."

"It's only been two months," he said, gnawing on his lip, "and you've been gone for most of that time."

"Yes," she agreed. "Though we have been writing every day, and I'm grateful for that."

"Mmm-hmm." Voldemort tucked her hair behind her ear and told her distractedly, "I was pleased to hear you're doing so very well in Potions this term. I knew you were brilliant with Charms and Transfiguration, but it's… you know, if you're to be my soldier…"

"I'm going to be your soldier," Bellatrix affirmed, and Voldemort blinked down at her a few times. His throat visibly bobbed, and he let out a shaking sigh.

"I told Rudy Lestrange that if his son is ever within sight of you again, I'll kill him immediately. I've got plans to kill him soon enough."

"I look forward to it," Bellatrix said, and that seemed to set a fire inside of Voldemort. He wrenched his eyes shut and whispered again,

"It's only been two months."

"Yes. And I've been gone for most of it, but we've been writing every day," Bellatrix repeated.

"I should get you back to Hogsmeade so that you don't get yourself into trouble," Voldemort said quickly, rising swiftly to his feet. He held out his arm, and Bellatrix hesitantly took it. It was difficult telling him goodbye, difficult walking back up to school with Calla and Opal, neither of whom could stop chattering about how romantic it was that Tom Riddle had come to visit his wife. Bellatrix was rather glum at dinner, for it was almost more painful to have seen him and left him than to have not seen him at all. But then there was a screech, and a little brown owl came flying in through the windows overhead. It dropped a letter off beside Bellatrix, and she ignored the curious stares as she grinned, recognising the handwriting that had scrawled _Bellatrix_ on the outside of the folded parchment. She broke the seal, opened the letter, and read it four times before her eyes began to well and then finally boiled over.

Seven words. That was all it was. Seven words.

 _I meant to say, "I love you."_

 **Author's Note: And that's it for today, folks! (Promise!) Thank you so much to those who have reviewed today despite the crazy fast updates. If you get a chance to review, I'd really appreciate it and I'd like to thank you for reading this story! If you can't tell, this will definitely be a 100k epic. :)**


	10. Take Care of You

_11 December 1968_

 _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

"I was not even vaguely ready for that exam," complained Opal as they walked out of the Potions classroom. Bellatrix raised her eyebrows.

"Why not? You revised for hours and hours."

"I'm just rotten with Potions," Opal said. She eyed the textbook Bellatrix carried under her arm and said, "I've been meaning to ask you all term. Why are you using such an old book? You don't seem like the type to use second-hand books, Bella."

"It was my husband's textbook," Bellatrix said very proudly. Calla and Opal sighed at one another, and Calla mused,

"It's so romantic."

Bellatrix laughed quietly. "You two think everything he does is romantic."

"Well, it bloody well is," Calla cried. "Writing to you every day. Sending you snacks for revising for exams. Sending you a self-inking quill for exams, an amulet for luck. You using his textbooks. It's all very romantic."

"Also," Opal said in a low voice, "my father says that he's responsible for _this_."

She pulled out a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , and Bellatrix smirked as she read the headline about a Mudblood being attacked in his home by two unknown, masked assailants. Bellatrix knew the truth; it had been Yaxley and Avery. Voldemort had written to her in coded language to tell her as much. They'd acted on Voldemort's orders, and it had worked - fear had been sown.

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Bellatrix lied, but her little smile said everything.

The next few days of exams seemed to pass by interminably. By the time that Dumbledore hosted the farewell Christmas feast for the school, Bellatrix was so ready to leave that she nearly made a break for it. Perhaps, she thought, she could just swim across the lake and make it to the Cotswolds somehow.

Would he be there at Kings Cross Station, she wondered? Her parents would be there for Narcissa and Andromeda; would be there for her? She'd learnt this term to Apparate. Perhaps he'd expect her to Apparate home. People knew him a little better now; he'd grown a bit more famous over these last few months. Perhaps he wouldn't want to be seen on a train platform anymore.

But he was there. When the train steamed up to the platform in London, he was there, waiting for her, smiling a little where he stood beside her father. Bellatrix waved at him through the window, and she was about to leave the compartment where she was now sitting alone when she realised the way out was blocked by a hulking, red-haired figure. A Gryffindor called Gideon Prewett, a sixth-year like her. He had a strange look of determination on his face, and he said very brazenly,

"Down with Lord Voldemort! _Stupefy!_ "

* * *

"My wife has been attacked _twice_ by your -"

"I have had nothing to do with any of this, Tom, and you -"

"If you think she's coming back to your lousy school in January, you've bloody well lost your mind."

"Well, I think that is up to Miss Black."

" _Madam Riddle._ "

"Will anyone let me speak?" Bellatrix blinked her eyes open, realising she was lying on a bench in a train compartment. She was still aboard the Hogwarts Express. She sat up slowly and saw her parents on the platform below with her sisters, looking very worried indeed. Inside the compartment, her husband was arguing with Albus Dumbledore. Both of the men looked at her as she sat up, and Bellatrix smirked a bit.

"I seem to be rather good at getting boys expelled this term."

"Perhaps it is better if you seek education elsewhere for the time being, given the… extenuating circumstances of your personal life," said Dumbledore, and Bellatrix's smirk grew.

"Is that you expelling _me_ , sir?"

"No. Of course not," Dumbledore said lightly. "Hogwarts will always be home for you."

"You're a bastard," Voldemort hissed. "Get off this train so I can heal her."

"I believe she's fine," Dumbledore said, "and can probably walk off the train herself."

Suddenly Voldemort shoved Dumbledore roughly, and the older man careened backward against the sliding compartment door. He held his hands up in a gesture of peace even as Voldemort jabbed his wand into his throat.

"My Lord," Bellatrix said softly, rising from the bench. She glanced out to see that her trunk was on the platform. Suddenly she felt like she wouldn't be coming back to school in January, after all, if this situation didn't resolve itself. Voldemort flicked his eyes to her, and she whispered, "Please. I have to finish school. I… let's go home."

"Listen to your wife, Tom," Dumbledore said, and Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the old man as he announced,

"I despise you and your ilk with all that I am. And you can count two now. Two that will die at my hand when you least expect it. The Lestrange boy. Gideon Prewett. Just you wait."

"You're a man of your word, Tom. I have no doubt." Dumbledore bowed his head. "Now. If you'll kindly get off the train and go celebrate the Christmas holidays."

Voldemort yanked at Bellatrix's wrist, much more roughly than he normally would have done, and she squealed in pain. He eased up his pressure as he led her down the steps and onto the platform. Her mother came rushing over out of Cygnus' arms, and she exclaimed,

"Oh, Bella! Are you hurt? Are you all right?"

"Not now, Druella," Voldemort snarled, and Druella looked shocked.

"Is she all right?" she asked again, and Voldemort Summoned Bellatrix's heavy trunk and held its handle as he declared,

"She's fine. We'll be in contact. Come, Bella."

He took hold of her hand then, pulling her away from her mother, and he Disapparated.

* * *

"Bloody fucking fool!"

He was stomping around the icy backyard in his winter cloak, and Bellatrix watched from inside the conservatory. Through the glass, she could see him slashing his wand at the dormant rose bushes, destroying them. He'd regret that, she thought. She blinked, her eyes burning. This was not how she'd meant to come home.

 _Down with Lord Voldemort!_

That was what Gideon Prewett had cried before he'd Stunned Bellatrix, before he'd sacrificed himself to expulsion and had risked getting murdered by Voldemort on the platform. What a Gryffindor move, Bellatrix thought. He'd been yanked away by professors for his own protection before Voldemort knew what was happening. But Voldemort had vowed as soon as they came home that they would see the boy dead sooner rather than later. He'd Stunned Bellatrix. He'd shouted _Down with Lord Voldemort._ He had to die.

Bellatrix wanted to kill him, but Voldemort said he had to do it himself. He kept insisting that this was his vendetta, that this was his personal feud, and that he would be the one to take Prewett out. Bellatrix watched now as he came storming into the conservatory, and she shrank back in utter fear of him.

"Why are you afraid of me?" he barked, and she shook as she confessed,

"Because you're very angry, My Lord."

"Not with you." He aimed his wand at her and snapped, " _Nongravidare._ "

Bellatrix was surprised by that, until he ordered her,

"Knickers off, hands and knees on the chair there. Now. _Now!_ "

Bellatrix began to cry a little, for she had never known that sex could be angry like this. She started to slide her knickers down and off, but she wasn't wet at all. This was going to hurt, she thought. She turned, trembling, and climbed up onto the white cushioned chair he pointed to. She curled her fingers around the back of it and waited, unsure of what he was going to do to her. Finally, after what felt like an absolute eternity, she heard him whisper,

"No. I'll take you gently in bed later. I love you. I won't hurt you. Put your knickers on."

"All right." Bellatrix climbed off the chair and reached for her knickers, insisting, "You can do what you want."

"Bellatrix." He took her face in his hands and shook his head. "I love you. I love you."

She'd never actually heard him say it aloud, not until standing here in this room, and she nodded up at him and whispered,

"And I love you."

"I will take care of you," he promised her. "I will kill, not just for my own revenge, but to take care of you. I will take care of you. I promise you."

"Mmm-hmm." She couldn't talk then. She was too in love with him. She just stared up into his deep, dark eyes and put her hands on his chest, and she whispered, "I want to dance with you."

"Good. Malfoy's having a Christmas party in a few days, and I mean to show you off," he said. "I mean to make quite a show of just how very married Lord Voldemort is. Just you wait."

She smiled a bit and nodded, and he cradled her face in his hand as he leaned down to press his lips to hers.

"I will take care of you," he whispered once more, and Bellatrix breathed in the heady, cold scent of him as he kissed her very deeply.

 **Author's Note: Oh, dear. Things are really heating up. But… Christmas party! Yayyyyyy! We all know how I like to write those. Thanks for reading and reviewing.**


	11. Dry Red

"I'm sure you've noticed that I've gotten rather… erm… fat." Voldemort felt his cheeks go hot as he and Bellatrix ate lunch in the blue dining room. She frowned at him and shook her head.

"No," she said. "I hadn't noticed."

"Well, I have," he insisted. "I've been doing nothing but eating. When I felt stress from building my movement, I ate. When I missed you and pined for you like a lunatic, I ate. And soon enough, my trousers were all too tight and my underwear waists were too small. So."

Bellatrix seemed to be studying him then, which made him very self-conscious, and he put down his fork and knife from his steak. He cleared his throat and shrugged.

"I'll lose the weight. It's fine. I'm almost forty-two years old. Men my age gain it more easily than we lose it, but I'll lose it."

"I think you look very attractive, My Lord," Bellatrix whispered, and then all of a sudden she looked very weak. She shut her eyes, and after a moment, she whispered, "I have been craving you."

"Again?" Voldemort smirked. He'd taken her body four times in two days. She was insatiable, not that he minded. She smiled at him from across the table, and suddenly he thought perhaps he wasn't so fat, after all.

"Are you excited for the party tonight?" he asked, and she huffed a breath.

"I'd rather stay home with you."

"Bella." He rolled his eyes and laughed a little. "You're incorrigible."

"Yes, I am excited," she admitted. "And a few of my school friends will be there, and I'm anxious to make them very envious by dancing with you in front of them."

"Those girls from the tea shop?" Voldemort asked. "Opal Rowle and Calla Greengrass?"

"Yes." Bellatrix folded her hands on the table and tipped her head a little. "When are you going to kill Gideon Prewett?"

He ran his fingers through his hair and whispered,

"I'd rather you not know. You're not an Occlumens, and Dumbledore is a very powerful Legilimens."

"Perhaps we should fix that," Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort frowned in confusion. Bellatrix raised a brow. "Couldn't you teach me Occlumency?"

His lips fell apart, and he shrugged. "I could try. It's very difficult, but you're a bright witch. It takes time to learn; I don't know that you'd have time before going back to school."

"Why don't we begin now?" Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort curled up half his mouth. He leaned back in his chair a little and said,

"I want you to tell me when you feel the tickle of my presence in your mind. Just tell me when you feel me."

"Yes, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. She sipped her dry red wine, and she stared right at him. _Legilimens,_ he thought, and she instantly blinked and said loudly, "I feel you."

"Good. Voldemort pulled out of her mind and then sighed, silently incanting _Legilimens_ again. This time, when he crept in, it took a little moment, and he could feel Bellatrix's thoughts and memories in a swirl before she exclaimed,

"There. I feel it!"

"Good." He pulled out again, and she gripped the table and mumbled,

"Tired."

"Mmm-hmm." He sipped his own wine and reminded her, "We've got a party to attend tonight. I can't wear you out. Or take your body any more, really."

"No?" She grinned at him, and he licked his lip, shrugging.

"Fine," he said. "One more time. Upstairs. My room. Let's go."

* * *

"Bella, are you ready to… oh."

He stepped out of his rooms in his tuxedo robes to see Bellatrix walking out of her own suite. He froze, shocked by how beautiful she looked. She wore an off-the-shoulder black gown with long lace sleeves and a velvet bodice and skirt. There was a slit up one side that revealed her entire smooth, thin leg. She wore spiky-heeled black shoes, and she wore her black pearl jewellery he'd given her. She'd tied her hair back into criss-crossed braids and a curly bun, and she wore scarlet lipstick and dark liner around her eyes. She looked magnificent.

"You are… I can't believe how lovely you are," he said rather breathlessly, walking toward her. She didn't look seventeen, somehow, but she also didn't look older. She just looked beautiful. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to _fuck_ her again, but instead he just took her hand in his and whispered,

"We should go. I feel guilty, making you go with a chubby old man like me."

"I am honoured to go as the wife of the Dark Lord," Bellatrix said very firmly, and Voldemort froze again. What had she just called him? The Dark Lord? He bent a little and whispered,

"Say that again."

"You are the Dark Lord," she murmured, and he could neither breathe nor think all of a sudden. He just Disapparated with her, coming to in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, and he said softly to her,

"I adore you."

Then he held her hand and led her up the stairs of the foyer, down the corridor and into the ballroom where the Christmas party was taking place. When he walked into the room, the music continued, but most conversations went quiet. People bowed their heads respectfully, which surprised Voldemort, and he tipped his head up in response. Bellatrix squeezed his hand, and Voldemort just nodded as he walked into the ballroom. Abraxas Malfoy came rushing over with his wife, Martina, and he said,

"Tom! Erm… sir. Sir. How good of you to come!"

Voldemort raised his brows at the way Abraxas had become so much more formal than he'd been at Tom Riddle's wedding to Bellatrix Black. Abraxas bowed his head and acknowledged,

"Madam Riddle. I'm pleased to see you well after that awful attack by Gideon Prewett."

"The Dark Lord will see to it that the boy is sufficiently punished," Bellatrix said simply, and Voldemort flicked his eyes to her, shocked by her gall and pleasantly taken aback by her confidence. He smiled a little and assured Abraxas,

"I will see to it."

"Well, good," Abraxas said almost indignantly. "I don't think any of us want to stand for blood traitors getting away with assault."

"Then kill the boy," Voldemort said quietly, and Abraxas' white face went pink. He looked surprised, but Bellatrix did not. Voldemort narrowed his eyes, and he could tell Abraxas knew he was being tested. Martina Malfoy seemed horrified, but she just lowered her eyes.

"You have said you wish to be a part of my movement," Voldemort reminded Abraxas Malfoy, and Abraxas nodded.

"I do, sir."

"Then kill Gideon Prewett whilst he's home on holiday," Voldemort said. "Make it clean. Don't get caught. No outsourcing. Do it yourself. Prove your loyalty. Prove your worth."

Abraxas' nostrils flared with fear, and Martina whimpered a little, but Abraxas nodded firmly, steeling himself, and he said,

"I'll do it. He won't go back to school."

"On second thought," Voldemort droned in a bored voice, "I'll have to put up with a manhunt against me if the boy dies so soon. It will happen in the summertime. But, Malfoy, I admire your willingness. It's been duly noted. I know that when I call on you in future, you will be able and loyal. Won't you?"

"Of course I will, sir," Malfoy nodded, and Voldemort smirked.

"Good man. Bella, let's go dance."

He led his stunning young wife out onto the dance floor, and as he swept her up into his arms, he asked her,

"That went well, didn't it?"

"He certainly knows what your limits are, My Lord," Bellatrix grinned. "That is to say, he knows your ambition is limitless. And he knows what you're willing to require of your servants. That is good, I think."

"I am very glad to have you with me through all of this," Voldemort said honestly as they began to move. Then, suddenly, his stomach ached, and he muttered, "You'll be home for Easter for a week."

"Yes." Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she shook her head. "I don't want to think about going back to school."

"I know." He cleared his throat and said, "I'll wait outside the shops, but I don't want you going alone to Diagon Alley or Knockturn Alley. Not after having been assaulted more than once. If you have Christmas shopping to do, I'll take you."

"Thank you." She dragged her thumb over his as they danced, and he stared down at her body, at her face. She was beautiful.

"I don't need to be a Legilimens right now," she teased him, and he tipped his head, asking,

"Am I that obvious?"

She just smiled, and she whispered, "Opal and Calla are standing by the dessert table watching us dance."

Voldemort reached out with Legilimency and felt for the girls' minds, and in them he sensed extreme jealousy. There was wonder, too, and disbelief that a witch and wizard could have such a romantic marriage. He laughed a little and stepped back.

"Spin," he instructed Bellatrix, and she giggled as she completed a clumsy little spin under his arm. They both laughed as they found their way back into a dancing stance, and then Voldemort stopped dancing and touched his forehead to hers.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, and he just murmured back,

"Making your friends jealous. It's fun for me. Don't you want a kiss?"

"Yes," she admitted, so he kissed her, long and hard, right there in front of everyone. When he pulled away, he felt dozens of eyes on him, including Cygnus and Druella Black's, but that just amused him. He laced his fingers through Bellatrix's and walked with her toward the dessert table. She giggled and yanked on him and whispered,

"You're just cruel."

"I want bread pudding," he said simply. She rubbed at his arm then, apparently having decided to play along, and the two of them walked up to the dessert table. He began making them a shared plate, asking her what she wanted, and finally Calla and Opal gathered the courage to walk up to them. Bellatrix pretended to be surprised.

"Bellatrix!" exclaimed plain-faced Opal. "Don't you look marvelous!"  
"I was so upset to hear what Gideon Prewett had done to you on the train," Calla said. "If we hadn't left you alone…"

"He Confounded you into leaving the Compartment early," Voldemort said, turning round from the table. He shrugged. "The disgraceful boy would have had his attack somehow. Do not blame yourselves."

"Yes, sir," Calla nodded. Voldemort picked up a pistachio macaron and smirked at Bellatrix.

"You like these."

"I do," she said back in a low voice, and he brushed it along her lower lip. She laughed a bit and took it from him, nodding her thanks and moaning a bit at the flavour. Calla and Opal looked shocked, but Voldemort just said to Opal,

"Miss Rowle, your brother has been at all of my speeches these last few months. Your family will be a loyal part of my movement. I have no doubt."

"No doubt at all, sir," Opal said meekly.

Voldemort snared his arm around Bellatrix's waist and squeezed, kissing her hair and then bringing her knuckles to his lips.

"I'm getting wine," he said. "Shall I fetch you a glass?"

"Dry red, just like you like," she nodded, "if you please, My Lord."

"Of course." He kissed her knuckles again and walked away, leaving her standing there alone with her school friends, who were open-mouthed in surprise just like Bellatrix's parents were halfway across the ballroom.

 **Author's Note: Oh, Voldemort. All about the power moves from start to finish. But I don't think there's any doubt in anyone's mind who this guy is now, what his intentions are, or what it's going to take to be part of his inner circle. He said he'd take Bellatrix shopping - will that go well? Hmm… :} Thanks as always for reading and a HUGE thank-you to those who review.**


	12. Master

"Oh, I despise these crowds," Bellatrix said.

"I told you that if you wanted to give me your list, I'd shop for you," Voldemort reminded Bellatrix. "Stay close."

They wormed their way down Diagon Alley toward Knockturn Alley, and as they passed Madam Primpernelle's, Bellatrix said,

"I need to pop in here to get perfume for my mum and sisters. That's their Christmas gift from me."

"Well, I'll stay out here," Voldemort said rather uncomfortably. Bellatrix smirked a bit at him and walked inside, and when she did, she froze. A red-haired which was rifling through a bin marked _CLEARANCE,_ facing away from Bellatrix. She narrowed her eyes at the red-headed witch and said,

"Molly Prewett. Sniffing through the sale bin. Why am I not surprised? Blood traitors become peasants."

"I won't have that talk in here!" said the thin witch behind the counter, and Bellatrix sneered at her a little. Molly Prewett tipped her chin up and asked,

"Feeling better, Bellatrix?"

"I am, no thanks to your brother. He won't be going back to school, will he?" Bellatrix took a basket and started plucking perfumed potions off the shelves. Rose for her mother, lily of the valley for Narcissa, vanilla for Andromeda. She walked up to the counter to pay, and Molly Prewett said,

"Actually, Gideon hasn't been expelled. Dumbledore decided to take a hundred and fifty points from Gryffindor and give him Saturday detentions from January through the end of term. Plus, he's been kicked off the Quidditch squad. But expelled? No."

"What?" Bellatrix's jaw fell open, and Molly looked very pleased with herself. Bellatrix shook her head and whispered, "Those bastards."

She ripped her coins out of her purse and slammed them on the counter, and when the witch gave her her change, she shoved it away and snatched the shopping bag. She stormed out of Madam Primpernelle's, expecting to tell him about how Gideon Prewett hadn't been expelled. But she found him in a verbal altercation with a curly-haired blonde witch who was crying up at him,

"And just who do you think you are, anyway? I have Muggle parents; you really think I'm less of a witch for that?"

"Yes, I really do," Voldemort informed her calmly. The witch scoffed loudly, and a crowd started to gather. Bellatrix approached, but he held his hand up, and she stayed back. The witch shoved at Voldemort's chest and exclaimed,

"My husband? What of him?"

"Ah, yes. Winston Shacklebolt. The blood traitor," Voldemort laughed, and a few others around him, laughed, too. Others scowled and looked alarmed. Voldemort shrugged. "And your lovely daughter Amanda, she of filthy blood."

There was more laughter then, and the blonde witch sounded emotional as she said,

"You're one to talk! Everyone knows that Tom Riddle had a Muggle for a father. Hypocrite!"

"Silence, Mudblood!" Bellatrix whipped out her wand then, and Voldemort looked amused as the blonde witch whirled around in shock. Bellatrix stuck her wand hard against the witch's chest and sneered,

"You've got Muggles for parents, and you _dare_ speak ill to the man whose mother was a Gaunt, whose wife is a member of the House of Black? You dare speak like this to the Dark Lord?"

"The… the Dark Lord?" The blonde witch looked confused, and Bellatrix hissed,

"I said, _silence_."

The street went quiet then, and Bellatrix flicked her eyes to Voldemort.

"I think I've finished my shopping, Master."

His eyes flashed at that last word, and he just nodded. He held out his hand and said quietly,

"Come, Bella."

"Yes, Master," she said again, and the moment her fingers touched his, they Disapparated.

* * *

"Say it again."

"Master…"

She swayed atop him, riding him for the second time that night. Bellatrix arched her back and held his hands, bobbing up and down as he slapped at her backside. He groaned and came hard inside of her, and she said it over and over again.

"Master. Master…"

She curled up beside him as he softened inside of her, and his fingers immediately went between her legs. He fiddled with her clit and put his lips beside her ear, and he whispered,

"You are such a good girl. To react like that in the street. Such a good servant. Such a good wife. I love you. I love you."

"Master," she replied frantically, and suddenly everything started to go hot and tight. She came with the force of a bomb, throwing her head back against him as he kissed her shoulder and moaned against her sweaty skin. As she came down from her high, something shiny and metallic chinked on the sheet in front of her, and Bellatrix frowned a little, confused.

"What is this?" she asked, picking it up, and as she slowly sat, Voldemort murmured,

"It's past midnight. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, My Lord," she smiled, and as she sat, Voldemort illuminated his wand and hovered it over her hands so she could see what she was holding. It was a silver oval locket, and when Bellatrix opened it, there was a tiny square of parchment. Bellatrix frowned in confusion as she pulled the parchment out, and as she unfolded it, her eyes welled heavily.

 _Every day, I shall love you more._

"Keep it near you when you go back to school, will you?" Voldemort asked, and Bellatrix couldn't answer. She just folded up the parchment and pushed it back inside, shutting the locket. She knew if she told him that she didn't want to go back to school, he would keep her home. But finishing her education was important to her. She needed to go back.

"Happy Christmas, My Lord," she whispered. "Master."

* * *

Getting back on the train on the fourth of January was the most difficult thing that Bellatrix had ever done. Tearing herself away from him on the platform was almost impossible. She couldn't keep herself from crying, and as she climbed onto the train and into a compartment, Opal Rowle noted,

"You really love him, don't you?"

"Yes," Bellatrix said simply. "I hope you find something like that someday."

"We were so jealous at the Malfoy Christmas party," Calla confessed as the train steamed away. Voldemort had already gone, and Bellatrix half-heartedly waved goodbye to her parents. Calla continued, "He seemed like you were his whole world."

"I think he was putting on a good show about that," Bellatrix said, shaking her head a little. "He's got a lot more to worry about than just me."

"Pretty necklace," Calla said. "Looks good with your uniform. Was that a Christmas gift."

"From my husband, yes," Bellatrix said, touching at it.

"What's that sticking out of the novel you've got there?" asked Opal. Bellatrix scowled. She'd brought her copy of _Hyacinth in January_ , a novel by the same author as _Roses For Clementine._ There was a folded parchment sticking out of the book, and when she pulled it out and opened it, she was unsurprised to see Voldemort's writing.

 _Stay away from Gideon Prewett, but if you can't, whatever you do is obviously self-defence._

 _On the 8th of February and the 15th of March, I will meet you in Madam Pudifoot's in Hogsmeade at ten o'clock, and I will bring you home and kiss you until I have to take you back. And then I shall see you at Easter. And in the meantime, I shall write you letters, and I shall send you little presents, and every day, I shall love you more._

 **Author's Note: I confess that it is difficult, with as busy as my "real life" is, not to get a little discouraged when a chapter has 400+ readers and two reviews. I promise to keep writing, but if you are reading and enjoying this story and could take a quick moment to review, I'd be very grateful. I promise not to whine about it anymore. :)**


	13. One Hundred Thousand Galleons

_Gideon Prewett tried to intimidate me by staring at me all throughout dinner last night, so halfway through, I started pulling silly faces at him. He didn't seem amused, but he did give up._

 _So much for me being brilliant with Potions. I managed to melt my cauldron in lessons yesterday. I put entirely too much Bubotuber Pus, and… well… anyway! Enough about me. How are you doing? I miss you, My Lord._

"Sir?"

Voldemort looked up from the letter where he stood in the new office he'd been given for his own private use at Malfoy Manor. He folded the letter and tucked it into his robes and smiled a bit as Martina Malfoy came walking in with a witch with beautiful blonde waves - Etheline Avery.

"How is the office, sir?" asked Martina Malfoy. "Is it quite to your liking? Etheline and I were just about to take tea, and I thought we'd come see how you like the new place."

"I do quite like it. It will suit quite well for meetings whilst keeping my residence private. Thank you," Voldemort said, bowing his head respectfully. His eyes flicked up and down Etheline's form, for the two of them had quite a history. He curled his lips up and said rather warmly, "How are you, Etheline?"

"I'm well, Tom. And you?"

His heart raced a little, and he struggled to answer. He and Etheline Mulciber - as she'd been before she'd married into the Avery family - had worked together at Borgin and Burkes. They'd been schoolmates, with her a year younger, and once she'd begun work at the shop, the two of them had begun a rather sordid affair that had lasted nearly a year. Then Etheline had married Avery, and it had stopped. It had been over twenty years ago now, but somehow Voldemort's cheeks still got very hot at the memory of it all. Wild drunken nights in his shabby little flat…

"You know, I think I'll go let Abraxas know that you like the office," Martina said. "I'll let the two of you catch up. Etheline, I'll be back soon."

"What?" Voldemort whispered, but before he could protest any more, Martina had gone and shut the door, leaving him standing there in the middle of the room with curvaceous, blonde, tall Etheline Avery.

"So," she said in a low voice, "You did everything you said you would and more."

"I haven't done half of what I mean to do, Etheline," he muttered, shaking his head. Suddenly, she walked up to him and put her hands on his chest, shocking him, and she told him,

"You know I inherited quite a fortune when my father died last year. Terrible Splinching accident, you know."

"I heard. Sorry about that." Voldemort stared down at Etheline's hands on his chest, and he tried to tell her to take them off. Etheline informed Voldemort smoothly,

"I've missed you, Tom. And I would _love_ to donate eighty thousand Galleons to the cause. Eighty thousand."

Voldemort tipped his head and looked down at her hands again. "Do I need to ask what you want in exchange?"

"A kiss," Etheline replied with a warm, gorgeous smile. Her teeth were straight and white. Her eyes were bright and blue. She tightened her hands a little on his chest and whispered, "A hundred thousand Galleons, Tom, for a real kiss again from you."

"A real kiss," he nodded. He scoffed a little and reminded her, "We're both married."

"We're alone in here," she said. "I won't tell if you won't. All I'll do is see to it that a hundred thousand Galleons are deposited into your Gringotts account tomorrow. Let me help the cause. Let me help you. All I want is a kiss from the boy that grew into this man."

"One kiss," Voldemort whispered, his voice shaking. He tried not to think of Bellatrix. When he inevitably did think of her, he reminded himself that theirs was an arranged marriage. He reminded himself that they were master and servant, and that Bellatrix would want him to do whatever he needed to do for his movement. Passing up a hundred thousand Galleons over a kiss would be very stupid, he thought. Even Bellatrix would think so. It was only one kiss.

It was only one kiss, he told himself over and over.

"One kiss," he murmured down to Etheline Avery, whose face lit up like the summer sun. She nodded and reached up to take Voldemort's face in her hands, and he leaned down a little. He brushed his lips against Etheline's, and suddenly he thought he'd be sick. But he couldn't stop.

He was pushing his tongue into her mouth, pushing her back toward the wall, and his hands were all over her. Etheline moaned softly, and Voldemort's fingers trailed across her breasts and down her stomach. He nudged her face aside and bent further to kiss at her neck, and when she moaned more, he ground himself against her stomach. Etheline rubbed his hair, rubbed his jaw, and then he crushed her mouth with his and remembered every time he'd kissed her when they'd been young.

Then he ripped his mouth from hers and hissed,

"Get out of my office."

She smirked a little, looking quite satisfied, and she nodded.

"A hundred thousand Galleons are yours tomorrow."

He almost barked at her to keep the money, but he didn't want this stain on his soul to be for nothing, so he just nodded and shut his eyes.

"Goodbye, Etheline."

* * *

 _Good morning, My Lord._

 _I hope you are well. I couldn't sleep last night; the first rainstorm of February managed to keep me rightly and truly awake. And then there was the knowledge that I would be seeing you today! Today, today, today. I don't even know why I'm bothering writing you a letter. I suppose just because I'm so ecstatic about seeing you TODAY! I've missed you so terribly that I can scarcely stand it._

 _Your letters recently have seemed so distant. I hope you're well. I've already said that. I still hope it's true. I miss you. I already said that, too._

 _See you soon._

 _Bella_

He almost didn't go.

He almost didn't Apparate to Hogsmeade on the eighth of February. Once he did will himself there, he almost didn't walk down the muddy street to Madam Pudifoot's. How was he meant to face her now? It had been a week since he'd kissed Etheline Avery, and he was a mess. He hadn't slept. He'd eaten like a pig. He'd scarcely bathed. Today he looked like a phantom, with dark circles beneath his eyes and sallow skin.

He finally, finally brought himself into Madam Pudifoot's at three minutes past ten. He was late. She was waiting. She flew to her feet and tossed a few coins down at the table where she'd been sitting, and her smile disappeared. She muttered a farewell to her friends, and then she hustled toward Voldemort and wordlessly walked with him outside. They didn't speak as they went between buildings, as she took his arm and went with him by Side-Along to their home at Marsham House. When they came to in the foyer, she silently followed him into the parlour and sat with him on the formal sofa.

"What's wrong?" she asked finally. "Please, I mean no offence, and I've missed you terribly, but you look awful."

"Thanks," Voldemort muttered. He sniffed and combed through his hair with his fingers as he shut his eyes, trying to decide what to tell her. Bellatrix asked,

"Has someone died?"

"No," he answered plainly.

"Have you drained yourself in some way?" she pressed, and though that was a good guess, he just shook his head. He kept his eyes shut as he informed her,

"I have sinned against you."

"What… what does that mean?" she asked, and he realised he'd used a Muggle term she might not comprehend. He opened his eyes and looked down at her, and he decided truth was his only option now.

"I kissed another witch," he whispered, and when Bellatrix's eyes went round as saucers, he said, "Etheline Avery. I make no excuse."

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she shrugged as she said desperately,

"I'm sure… it's been quite difficult on you… being alone…"

"I was alone and celibate for twenty years. I ought not to have done it," Voldemort snapped. Bellatrix's bottom lip pushed out then, breaking his heart a little and making one tear almost tumble from his eye. He brushed it away quickly, and he explained,

"She promised me a large amount of money in exchange for a kiss. She and I had an affair in our youth, and she wanted a taste of what we'd once had. I escalated the kiss beyond what she'd asked for. I am sorry."

"Did you get the money?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort's blood went cold.

"What?"

"Did you get the money?" she asked again, sounding angry. Voldemort nodded wordlessly, and Bellatrix scoffed a little.

"Oh, good. We wouldn't want you to have been cheated," she said, and she flew to her feet. She stormed away from him, and Voldemort rose.

"Bellatrix," he said solemnly, "I am very sorry."

She didn't respond. She just Disapparated, smoothly and silently, and Voldemort's jaw dropped. He followed her, Disapparating back to the spot between the buildings in Hogsmeade where they were meant to return. But when he looked around, she wasn't there. He went out into the street, frantically searching for her. He thought for a moment that perhaps she'd Splinched, or wound up in the wrong place, but then he saw her. There she was, walking up the path that led from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts Castle.

He could not follow her there. He had to let her go. His chest ached as he watched her wind up the path alone, a little black dot on a lonely hillside. He wanted to shout out to her that he was sorry, that he was nothing but a rotten cur, but she wouldn't have wanted to hear him even if the wind wouldn't have swallowed his cries.

So he Disapparated back to Marsham House, and he began desperately trying to think of ways to make it up to her.

 **Author's Note: Oh, Voldemort. Why'd you have to go and do THAT? Also, raise your hand if you now totally hate Etheline Avery. Ugh. I'd love your thoughts, as always.**


	14. Yours In Eternity

_Did you pay for the diamond necklace with the money she gave you for kissing her?_ Bellatrix wrote. She tied the note and the small box with the diamond pendant inside it back onto the owl's leg, and she snapped at the owl,

"Tom Marvolo Riddle. Marsham House."

The owl flew off from the Great Hall, and once it was gone, Opal asked Bellatrix,

"Is something… erm… wrong between you and -"

"Kindly stay out of it," Bellatrix said sharply. Later that day, when they were back in the Great Hall, Bellatrix ate her dinner in silence. Everyone else was talking about how it was certain that Slytherin would win the Quidditch Cup this year, but all Bellatrix could do was imagine Voldemort kissing Etheline Avery.

"Bellatrix! Bird!"  
She whirled around and almost got socked in the head by a green grass bottle flying at her from an owl's feet. She snatched it and scowled as she realised there was an envelope inside the bottle.

A message in a bottle.

Was he serious?

She sighed and pulled out her wand, aiming it at the bottle and muttering, " _Crystallum Evanesco._ "

The green glass bottle Vanished, and when Bellatrix pulled out the envelope inside, everyone at the table was staring at her. She decided she wanted to open this note in private, and she packed up her rucksack, muttering,

"See you all later."

She made her way out of the Great Hall and stood in the corridor outside of it, cracking open the seal on the letter and reading what was inside.

 _Bellatrix,_

 _How cruel and foolish a man I have been. How vicious toward you in the name of ambition. How blind I have been, ignoring the value of the only human I could ever love. I am a blind, bloody fool. I am. I am._

 _And yet, I must tell you - I must confess my love for you in all its infinite depth. I must beg you (yes, beg you) to forgive me, for if you do not, I think the emptiness within me may swallow me whole. I am blank and broken and void without your affections. I am._

 _And you. You are everything. You are beauty beyond measure. You are intelligence and wit beyond match. You are humour and loyalty. Loyalty, loyalty. How I wish I had been loyal to you, the way you have been loyal to me. I swear to you - you, perfect you - that I shall be loyal to you. I am_ _your_ _husband; I vowed it. I promised it. I am_ _your_ _husband until my demise, which is so far in the distance we neither of us might comprehend. And I am_ _your_ _husband because I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you._

 _I will be loyal. And if you do not see fit to forgive me, I shall just the same love you more every day._

 _I am sorry. I am. I am sorry beyond what words could ever say, and yet I shall say what I can. I am sorry. I beg you, forgive me. I beg you, believe my vow of loyalty. I love you._

 _Yours in eternity,_

 _Lord Voldemort_

Bellatrix stood in the corridor with tears streaming down her cheeks, and she whispered,

"I love you."

* * *

"Now. Who can tell me the difference between Dreamless Sleep and the Somnolus Potion?" asked Horace Slughorn. Bellatrix watched as Betsy Babington, an eager Gryffindor Mudblood, threw her hand in the air. Slughorn seemed pleased. "Yes, Miss Babington?"

"Sir, the primary difference is that Somnolus Potion allows the sleeper to dream whilst asleep, and the sleeper may awaken during an emergency such as a fire. However, Dreamless Sleep offers the advantage of a peaceful night's rest, which can be useful in cases such as a traumatising event."

"Very good, Miss Babington!" cried Slughorn. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

"Mudblood," hissed Garmand Goyle, and Bellatrix's brows flew up. Slughorn didn't hear, but a few of the Gryffindors did and shot him filthy looks. Bellatrix smiled and made a mental note to tell Voldemort that Goyle was a defender of blood purity. Then she remembered that she wasn't speaking to her husband, and she scowled.

Suddenly the door to the Potions classroom opened, and Minerva McGonagall came walking inside. She rushed up to Horace Slughorn and whispered something in his ear, and then Slughorn said,

"Miss Black, if you wouldn't mind going with Professor McGonagall?"

"Please, sir, it's Madam Riddle," Bellatrix seethed. She'd been married for many months now. When was the old coot going to get it right? A few people giggled, but when McGonagall shot them wickedly angry glares, the giggles died. Bellatrix walked out of the Potions classroom with McGonagall and out into the corridor, where McGonagall wrung her hands before her.

"Your sisters are already on their way to meet your parents in the Headmaster's office," said McGonagall, and Bellatrix frowned.

"My sisters? What is this about? What's going on?"

"I'm afraid your great-great-grandmother Ursula has passed away, dear," said McGonagall. Bellatrix's jaw dropped. Her Gran Ursula had been over one hundred years old, but, still… she raised her eyebrows and asked,

"Am I to attend the funeral, then?"

"You and your sisters will leave today, Wednesday, and come back Sunday evening, yes," McGonagall nodded. "Any relevant lesson work will be sent to you by owl. Now… first of all, my condolences on the loss of your family member. And, secondly, I'm sure you understand why it is that we've asked your _husband_ to stay off of school grounds."

Bellatrix tipped her chin up and scoffed. "Because he and the Headmaster don't get along very well?"

She knew why. It was because they didn't trust Voldemort not to come into the school and just kill Gideon Prewett. Well, they weren't wrong, probably. Bellatrix smiled a little and asked,

"Where is he?"

"He said he would meet you at Madam Pudifoot's in Hogsmeade," McGonagall said hesitantly.

The walk down to Hogsmeade seemed to take an eternity. It was cold and raining, for one thing, and it was a lonely walk on her own. But when Bellatrix finally reached the High Street of Hogsmeade, she could see him there, standing outside Madam Pudifoot's in a long cloak, and he looked very anxious where he stood. Bellatrix approached him, the letter he'd sent in a bottle the day before tucked into her robe pocket and Waterproofed. She'd read it sixteen times.

 _I will be loyal. And if you do not see fit to forgive me, I shall just the same love you more every day._

 _I am sorry. I am. I am sorry beyond what words could ever say, and yet I shall say what I can. I am sorry. I beg you, forgive me. I beg you, believe my vow of loyalty. I love you._

Bellatrix's eyes burned as she approached him. The rain began to fall much harder, and as she stared up at him through the hood of he cloak, he studied her face, a question in his eyes.

"I forgive you!" she shouted over the rain. His nostrils flared and his eyes glassed over as if he were on the verge of tears, but he just nodded and informed her,

"I love you. I bought this with money I earned in 1961, working in France."

He held out the diamond pendant that she'd sent back to him with a mean-spirited note, and as rain fell all over it, she took it from his hand and stared up at him. She studied the beautiful teardrop pendant; she hadn't had time to do so before. Now she realised just how beautiful it was, and she heard him shout over the pounding rain,

"I will be loyal to you forever."

"I know." Her voice was quiet, but somehow she knew she'd heard him. She raised her eyes and said, "I will be loyal to you, too, Master."

"I know," he said, and he bent to kiss her. She absorbed the kiss, short and sweet, and suddenly she knew everything had been mended between them. He stood and told her,

"I'm sorry about your great-great-grandmother, though I know you scarcely knew her. Let's go home. A funeral is a grand excuse for a few days at Marsham House, eh?"

She nodded and took his hand. "Let's go home," she said, and she went with him as he Disapparated.

 **Author's Note: A diamond necklace! A message in a bottle with a sweet apologetic note! Forgiveness in the rain! Yeah! LOL. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.**


	15. Making It Up To Me

**Author's Note: Mini-Chapter! Sorry for how short this is, but since it's an intense lemon, I wanted to let it stand alone. I promise the next chapter will be full-length and will be written tomorrow. It should be pretty obvious what that'll be about. ;)**

"Oh. _Oh._ Is this you making everything up to me?" Bellatrix asked, for Voldemort had her on her back on his bed, his mouth burrowed against her neck. She held onto his hair and tipped her face back as he worshipped her neck, and he growled a laugh.

"You have no idea."

"Mmm." Bellatrix felt him reach beneath her school skirt for her knickers, and as he yanked them down, he moved his mouth back to hers. His tongue slipped between her lips and drove hard against the roof of her mouth, and Bellatrix squealed a little. She kicked away her knickers, already having shucked her black robe, jumper, white shirt, and tie. Voldemort caressed her breast over her bra, and she expected him to take out his cock and put it in her.

She was surprised, therefore, when he slithered downward and knelt between her legs, urging her to bend her knees. Suddenly she realised what was happening. She'd used her mouth on him before. He was going to do the same to her. She gasped softly at that notion, and she hiked her skirt up a little so she could see. But even bending up a little, she couldn't really see his face, so she just lay back and soaked in the feel of what was happening.

And, _oh_ , what was happening. First he trailed his fingers up the insides of her thighs and whispered,

" _Gaudens._ "

Bellatrix let out a choked sound as she came, her orgasm spurred on by his spell. She drove her head against the pillow, her walls clenching and her ears ringing. Voldemort liked what he saw, apparently, for he made a low noise of desire as he watched. As Bellatrix recovered, she said,

"Thank you, Master."

"That was nothing," he warned her, and Bellatrix felt her eyes go round. She gripped the blankets and felt something wet and warm - his tongue - lathing up in long drags from the bottom to the top of her womanhood. Over and over he did it, and then he suckled on her clit. He dragged it flat twelve or fifteen times until Bellatrix squirmed and whined, and then he sucked so hard on her clit that she couldn't help but come again. He twisted two fingers into her through her orgasm, and just as the clenching and heat started to abate, he incated,

" _Gaudens._ "

"My Lord!" Bellatrix cried, her voice nearly screaming now. She was still in the midst of the orgasm, her vision blurred and her ears hot and her womanhood clamping, as Voldemort whispered against her thigh,

" _Gaudens._ "

"Master!" She couldn't take any more. She gripped his hair as tightly as she could and heard him laugh a little, and then he came up to lie beside her on the bed. He waited for a long time as she recovered, as she panted and curled up beside him, kissing his chest and holding onto him for dear life.

"That was too much!" she complained, and he asked,

"Was it really?"

"No," she giggled. "Now I'm going to want to finish four times every time."

"Greedy little beastie," he said, kissing her forehead. He seemed happy then, and she knew why. She'd forgiven him. He'd spent days and days concerned with whether or not she'd ever forgive him, and now she had done. She stared up at him and whispered,

"It's fine. I trust you."

His eyes went wet, and he whispered, "There's something I need to tell you. It has nothing to do with fidelity and everything to do with me wishing to be honest with you. Only with you."

Bellatrix pushed herself up onto an elbow, her stomach flopping a little. "What is it?"

He gave her a serious look and asked,

"Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?"


	16. Story Time

"So," Voldemort said, drumming his fingers along the arm of the chair in the sitting room where he and Bellatrix where sitting with glasses of dry red wine and a fire blazing, "Story time."

"Story time," Bellatrix agreed. "Tell me how you made them all."

She sipped at her wine, looking utterly fascinated, and Voldemort smirked a bit at her enthusiasm. He'd already trained her over Christmas holidays on the basics of Occlumency. He would need to train her far more now that she would now about his Horcruxes, but it was important to him that she know about them. Voldemort sipped deeply from his wine and then poured himself more. He began at the beginning, as all the best stories did.

"I learnt about them through completely illegal research," he said, "and by reading a combination of books containing scraps of evidence about how to create them. Horace Slughorn unknowingly gave me information, too. I decided I must have one. In 1943, I discovered something else. I was the Heir of Slytherin."

"You're the Heir of Slytherin?" Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and his smirk grew.

"You said it yourself. I am a member of the House of Gaunt. And so I was able to release Slytherin's basilisk beneath Hogwarts Castle."

"That was _you?_ " Bellatrix marveled."You did that? I thought Hagrid's beast did that and that's why he got expelled!"

"I got him expelled, but of course it was me, yes." Voldemort sipped his wine, and Bellatrix took a giant gulp. She shook her head and marveled.

"1943. Did you have anything to do with that girl in the bathroom who died that year? The girl who won't shut up? Moaning Myrtle?"

Voldemort choked a little laugh. "Myrtle Warren. Yes. Well, it was the basilisk's gaze that killed her. But I used that death - that indirect murder - to create my first Horcrux. I used my diary at the time, preserving a part of my sixteen-year-old self inside of it. The process was exhausting and emptying; I had to cast the spells and then had to go to the Hospital Wing for almost two weeks with some _mysterious malady._ They almost sent me to St Mungo's, for I was weak and tired, coughing and vomiting. Nothing the matron could do could help me. But all that was happening was that part of my soul was draining into the diary. And once it was finished, I was all right again."

Bellatrix nodded, and he didn't need Legilimency to know what she was thinking. She wanted to make one. Voldemort continued,

"I quickly realised that the process was tolerable, and that I did indeed want more than one. As soon as we went on Christmas holidays, I went to my parents' home in Little Hangleton and murdered my father and grandparents. I used the filthy Muggles and my family's Gaunt ring as a Horcrux. I waited out the illness in privacy; it only lasted ten days this time. By the time school resumed, I was well again."

Bellatrix looked hungry all of a sudden. She had finished her wine, and she held out her wine glass to Voldemort. He Summoned it, poured her more wine, and Banished it back to her. She sipped at it again, and Voldemort informed her,

"I waited until 1946 to make my next Horcrux. I befriended a collector of fine antiques; she was called Hepzibah Smith. She had Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, and I wanted it. I finagled my way into her home and her affections. Eventually I killed her and framed her House-Elf."

"And you used the Cup?" Bellatrix asked in wonder. Voldemort nodded slowly.

"This time, I was sick only a week. It was becoming easier every time. The next one, I made a few months later with Salazar Slytherin's locket, which I stole from Hepzibah Smith. I used a Muggle as the required murder."

"But did you really steal it, if you are the Heir of Slytherin?" Bellatrix asked, "or were you merely taking back what was yours?"

He smiled a little at her and nodded. "Good girl."

He sipped from his wine and mumbled, "The next one, I made on the Continent ten years later. And that was that. And, yes, I would like you to make one someday, because I do not wish to ever lose you."

"I'd have to kill someone," Bellatrix confirmed, and Voldemort nodded.

"Yes. You'll have to kill someone."

Bellatrix sighed and sipped her wine. "Will you do me a favour, Master?"

His chest tightened, and he nodded. "Mmm-hmm."

She stared right at him and said gravely, "Let me kill Rodolphus Lestrange."

* * *

"Bella. We have to get going."

"I'm too tired," Bellatrix complained, coming out of her room in a heavy black velvet dress. He nodded. He'd worn her out earlier training in Occlumency, and now she was properly brilliant with it. Of course, in the process of training, he'd seen every memory she'd probably wished to keep private. He'd seen her get her first period. He'd seen her throw up after riding on a broom with her sister. He'd seen her cry into a pillow when her father had first told her that she was to be married. But now, when he tried to peer into her mind, he was met with a great black blankness.

"Here. Take some Invigoration Draught." He'd thought that she might be fatigued, but they didn't have a choice about attending her great-great-grandmother Ursula's funeral. Bellatrix peeled back her black lace veil and knocked back the potion, and Voldemort's eyes went round.

"Oh, Bella," he groaned, and she shrugged.

"What?"

"You're meant to take a few drops!" he exclaimed. "You've overdosed! And we have to go. Oh… do try to control yourself, will you, please?"

"Oh, dear. I'm sorry. I'll stay calm," Bellatrix promised. But when she handed the empty bottle back to Voldemort, he was filled with a sense of dread.

He was right to be worried, as it turned out. At Number 12, Grimmauld Place, where the funeral was being held, Bellatrix was practically bouncing off the walls. Not only that, but she was getting drunk quickly.

"Bella, you need to stop drinking," Voldemort said, plucking a glass of red wine out of Bellatrix's hands after her third one in half an hour.

"Sorry!" she giggled. "I was thirsty."

"Thirsty," Voldemort repeated, shaking his head. Bellatrix meandered with leaping little steps over to where her great-great-grandmother's cremated ashes were sitting atop a pedestal with a framed, sour-faced portrait of her. Bellatrix turned to Voldemort and peeled back her veil. She smiled devilishly and said,

"Wouldn't it be hilarious if someone were to just come up and knock it over? The vase of ashes, I mean."

"Why would that be funny?" Voldemort snapped, and then two little boys with dark hair and pale skin came sauntering up.

"Our mum and dad said we had to say hullo to you, Bellatrix," said one of the boys, and Bellatrix laughed.

"Well, _that's_ not very polite, is it, Sirius? But, then, you've never been polite. Horrid little boy."

"Is she drunk, sir?" asked the other boy, the one Voldemort knew to be called Regulus. He shook his head a little and informed him,

"She took something for the grief; that's all."

"Everyone thinks she's drunk," Regulus said, and Voldemort sighed and tightened his lips.

"Thanks very much for telling me. Bella, come with me."

He took hold of her hand and marched her past her very angry-looking mother and father, her irritated-looking middle sister and the confused-seeming Narcissa. He took her past her grieving grandfather Pollux and all her other relatives, and her dragged her upstairs as she laughed a little and pranced on the steps. When they reached the first floor, he took her into a library and told her,

"Let down your Occlumency shields. I am going to hypnotise you with extremely advanced Confounding."

Bellatrix frowned. "Isn't that just an Imperius Curse?"

"No. I'm not going to Imperius you," Voldemort said, sitting her down on a chair in the library. "This is a skill I learnt on the Continent."

"When you were learning all that Dark magic," Bellatrix nodded eagerly, and Voldemort confirmed,

"When I was learning all that Dark magic. Open your mind. Open your eyes. Look at me."

She did, and he thought, _Confundo Maxima._ Her eyes glassed over and she shook where she sat, and Voldemort reminded her,

"We are at a funeral. Your behaviour shames us both. You must be calm and collected. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," she nodded, and he informed her,

"I will let you have him. The one you want. I will let you make the thing you wish to create. But first I need you to make it through this funeral. You must behave naturally, calmly, and in a manner befitting the funerary rites of your family member. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered again, and he held out his hand for her.

"Let's go downstairs."

 **Author's Note: Oooooh. So she's trained in Occlumency now (will that become necessary?) and they've agreed that she'll use Rodolphus to make her Horcrux! But when? Hmmm… :}**


	17. I Will Be

_Dear Bellatrix,_

 _I hope that this letter finds you well, and that you… I have to drop the formality, because you and I are no longer formal with one another. We were, once upon a time. Do you remember? Do you remember what it was like when you and I scarcely knew one another and made vows just the same? Do you remember what it felt like to promise forever and have only just barely met?_

 _How was I to know you would be perfect? I know now. I miss you. Home is no longer home without you._

 _L.V._

* * *

 _My Lord,_

 _Of course I remember what it felt like to walk down the aisle to a man I hardly knew. How was I meant to know that he would become the master I would love so dearly? I know now. I know._

 _Today in Divination lessons, I read tea leaves that apparently said I would soon commit a dastardly act that I would not regret. Perhaps Divination isn't hokum, after all. In Transfiguration, we have been working on human transfiguration. I have been mastering the arts of changing my features, changing my face, and I think you would be pleased to see the way I can make myself blonde and plump and blue-eyed._

 _I always want to make you proud._

 _Bella_

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _You know, I'd always written off Divination as complete idiocy for complete idiots, but perhaps not, now that you describe those particular tea leaves. Did you know that there are only sixteen days until the next visit to Hogsmeade? I believe you know what that means._

 _\- L.V._

* * *

 _My Lord,_

 _It means a nice cup of tea in Madam Pudifoot's, doesn't it?_

 _\- Bella_

* * *

 _Bella,_

 _You cheeky bugger._

 _This is our fourth letter back and forth today, you do realise? Don't you have any actual schoolwork to do? I have other things to do. Stop distracting me._

 _\- L.V._

* * *

 _My Lord,_

 _I've waited two whole days to write to you so as not to distract you, and I feel like a limb's been ripped off of me. Please don't make me do that anymore. Please. Thank you._

 _\- Bella_

* * *

 _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _I had a rather filthy dream of you last night. You'd done what you intend on doing, and afterward, you and I made love until I was chafed and you were chafed and we were sweaty and tired. I made you come until you couldn't breathe. I woke up drenched with come all over my pyjamas. I hope no one finds this letter._

 _L.V._

* * *

 _Master,_

 _I am in trouble. You will be called to the school shortly to discuss my expulsion. I am sorry._

 _Bella_

* * *

Bellatrix sniffed lightly as she sat in Albus Dumbledore's office. The portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistresses glared down at her. She stared across Dumbledore's desk at him, and Dumbledore held out a small glass dish and raised his grey brows.

"Jelly slug, Miss… pardon me, Madam Riddle?"

"No. Thank you." Bellatrix folded her hands in her lap and murmured, "Am I to be expelled or not?"

"That will all be discussed when Mr Riddle arrives," said Dumbledore. "We must discuss this as a group, I'm afraid."

"Bellatrix."

She stood slowly and turned round, watching as Voldemort came up through the spiral stairs that led into the Headmaster's office. His robes billowed about him, and he demanded,

"What's going on? Has something happened with Gideon Prewett?"

"No, Tom; I'm afraid this is your doing," Dumbledore said, and he held up a parchment. Suddenly Voldemort's face shifted, and he snarled,

"Give me that." He tried to Summon it, but it seemed to be suddenly epoximised to Dumbledore's hand, and as Dumbledore sat, he gestured to the two chairs opposite him. He read in a calm, quiet voice,

" _Dear Bellatrix, I had a rather filthy dream last night…_ I think you know the rest."

"That is a private letter!" Voldemort sneered, but Dumbledore blinked and said,

"Your owl accidentally delivered it to one of our thirteen-year-old Gryffindor students, who informed her parents of the content of the letter that she'd seen. This has been quite a mess for administration to clean up, Mr Riddle."

Voldemort's cheeks went red, and he muttered,

"Well, I won't write to her anymore like that. Obviously."

"My Lord, I think it's more serious than that," Bellatrix mumbled, and Voldemort scowled.

"What, you're going to expel her over a nasty letter?" Realisation came over his face then, and Bellatrix hoped he could see what she'd already seen. Dumbledore wanted Bellatrix gone. This was just an excuse for him. This was just a way for the school to rid itself of Bellatrix. Suddenly Voldemort tipped his chin up and said quietly,

"Well, go on and expel her, then."

"You don't seem too terribly broken up about the concept, Tom," Dumbledore noted, and Voldemort shrugged.

"I can educate her at home better than you're doing here."

"I'm sure you believe that," Dumbledore nodded. He licked his lip and said, "Madam Riddle, because of the damage caused by this letter, it is my decision as Headmaster that you should return home and not return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"When do I collect my things, sir?" Bellatrix asked, and Dumbledore glanced away as he said quietly,

"The House-Elves have gathered them from the girls' dormitory; your trunk is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, outside the door to the Headmaster's Tower. I'm sure Mr Riddle can Lighten your trunk to the Apparition Point. Should you require school records, kindly write to us. In case you are… transferring."

"Her practical education begins now," Voldemort said rather triumphantly, and Dumbledore just nodded, looking solemn. He seemed like a man who had had little choice, like a man who had just signed away the life of a Dark witch, and he seemed on the verge of tears. He blinked a few times and Vanished the nasty letter Voldemort had sent to the school, and he said,

"Good day, Madam Riddle. I wish you all the best, and I wish you to be your very best."

"Don't worry, sir," she said, rising and taking Voldemort's hand. "I will be."

 **Author's Note: Oh, my. So she's been expelled. And it's all because of Voldemort's dirty mind. What does that mean for Rodolphus? And creating a Horcrux? And we haven't seen anyone with the Dark Mark yet in this story... seems high time that the Dark Lord start putting marks on Death Eaters, yeah? Who will be his very first one? Mwah hahahaha...**


	18. Coming Down With Something

"Are you ready?" Voldemort asked from behind Bellatrix in his bed. He stroked at her arm, and she whispered simply,

"Yes."

"Are you certain?" he asked, and she nodded, her head scratching the pillow.

"I'm certain."

"You don't have to do this," he reminded her, and she rolled over to face him, sighing.

"I want to," she said. "When will you kidnap him and bring him to me?"

Voldemort hesitated and said, "I think you should reconcile with your parents first. You'll be laid up for two weeks, and -"

"Reconcile?" Bellatrix interrupted, pushing herself up onto an elbow. "Reconcile... about school, you mean. About the expulsion."

"I'm sure they're absolutely devastated. I know that because they sent me a letter telling me just how devastated they are," Voldemort said, "and considering that Dumbledore was kind enough to explain to them _why_ you got expelled when they asked - bastard - they are not at all pleased with me."

"But that's not fair," Bellatrix exclaimed. "It isn't as though you _meant_ for the owl to… why are you looking at me like that?"

"Bellatrix." Voldemort sat up slowly and tucked her hair behind her ear. She seemed confused, and he licked his lip carefully as he said, "I did it on purpose. I did."

"What are you talking about?" Bellatrix demanded in a whisper, pulling his hand away.

"I told the owl to get 'lost,' not to deliver the letter to you," Voldemort said. Bellatrix's eyes went wide, and she scoffed as tears welled up.

"Why would you do that?"  
"Dumbledore wanted a way out," Voldemort reminded her. "I gave him one. Besides, I simply could not have you spending the entire rest of this school term and all of next year away from me. Not if you're to be my… my first Death Eater."

"Your first _what?_ " Bellatrix snapped, seeming a little angry now. Voldemort reached beside him for his wand, and he turned up the light on the wall. He stared at Bellatrix and informed her,

"When I was in school, I had a gang called the Knights of Walpurgis. A posse, if you will. They did my bidding but called themselves my friends. I want to get that old gang back together and then some. But this time round, we will not be the Knights of Walpurgis. They will be my Death Eaters. My _army_. And they will swear my fealty forever, and I will brand each of them with an indelible tattoo that responds in special ways to modified Protean Charms of my own creation."

"A tattoo?" Bellatrix asked curiously, and Voldemort huffed a breath as he said,

"Sort of. It's to be called the Dark Mark. I just put it on myself three days ago. Mine's dormant, but… look…"

He pressed his wand to the Mark he'd put upon himself, and he whispered, " _Morsmordre._ "

The Dark Mark flushed from pink to red, to burgundy and then to black. Bellatrix stared at the skull spitting out a serpent, and she gasped in awe.

"Oh, I want one of those," she moaned, as if in pleasure, and Voldemort smirked a little at her.

"Well, good," he said, "because I'd like you to be my first Death Eater. Will you do it?"

"Of course I will," Bellatrix nodded. She held out her left arm, just like his where his Dark Mark was, and she urged him, "Mark me."

"Promise first," he said breathlessly. He pulled his wand around her left forearm in the shape of the Dark Mark and murmured, "Bellatrix Riddle, do you swear to be loyal to Lord Voldemort now and forever, to serve him in every capacity you are able, and to always give everything of yourself for him?"

"Oh, yes, My Lord. I swear it," Bellatrix whispered, sounding almost orgasmic. Voldemort waited until she met his eyes, and then he nodded and informed her,

"Death Eater Number One, you are welcomed into my fold. _Morsmordre._ "

* * *

"Hello," said Druella Black very sourly as they stepped into her house. "I confess I didn't think either of you would show your face."

"We've come to apologise, Druella. Well. Me most especially," Voldemort said. "I promise you I will give Bellatrix a far better education than Dumbledore ever could have -"

"You sent her filthy letters, and _one_ got intercepted. How often were you writing to her like that?" Druella asked, and Bellatrix reminded her mother,

"We're married, Mum. It wouldn't be anyone's business, yours included, if we were writing dirty letters to each other. In fact, Dumbledore was entirely out of line in expelling me for this. He was just looking for an excuse to kick me out of school after the incident with Gideon Prewett. We all know who he preferred in that particular case."

She started coughing rather profusely then, and Druella looked concerned. She shouted for the House-Elf to get some tea, some water, but Voldemort hurried to Conjure a glass and some water. Bellatrix sipped it and gave him a serious look.

"Thank you, sir," she nodded, and Druella asked her,

"Bella, dear, are you unwell? Is something wrong?"

"I think I'm coming down with something," Bellatrix lied, and suddenly Voldemort thought she was the most intelligent witch he'd ever known. He smirked a bit, then hid it when Druella turned to look at him. He shrugged and said,

"I'm feeling fine. If she's not well, I'll get her a Healer."

"Please see that you do," Druella nodded. "Bella, dear, I'm so sorry to hear about school, really. But I think you're right. I think Dumbledore would have looked for any excuse. Some little infraction by you in a corridor, some… darling! Are you all right?"

"Dizzy," Bellatrix fibbed, for she'd dropped her glass of water and it had shattered on the ground.

"I think we ought to get you home," Voldemort said, Vanishing the mess on the ground, "and get you resting."

"Yes, I think so," Bellatrix nodded. "Mum, I'm sorry to cut this short."

"No, dear. You go rest. I hope you feel better soon. So sorry again to hear that Dumbledore's such an… an… _arse!_ "

Bellatrix smiled weakly and took hold of Voldemort's sleeve. "I won't embrace you, Mum, in case I've got something contagious." She hacked a few times and said, "I'll see a Healer if it doesn't get better soon. Promise."

"Goodbye, Druella," Voldemort said, Disapparating. When they came to at Marsham House, he raised his eyebrows down to Bellatrix and shrugged. "Well. That's one way to force my hand. Horcrux time, I suppose."

* * *

Voldemort paced inside Rodolphus Lestrange's small, dingy flat in London. He was working in a shop in Knockturn Alley, Voldemort knew, and he was living here, nearby the shops. He'd gotten the address from Mulciber, who seemed to know everything. Lestrange was living with a Muggle woman, Voldemort had been warned - the boy had become a blood traitor.

Suddenly the door to the flat opened, and Voldemort aimed his wand squarely at the two figures who walked in, quietly talking and giggling.

" _Stupefy. Stupefy._ "

Each of them flew against a wall in a blaze of blue light and slammed to the ground. Voldemort silently shut and locked the flat's door with nonverbal magic, and then he Disarmed the auburn-haired woman on the ground. No wand flew at him. Yes, she was a Muggle, and therefore useless for this endeavour.

" _Avada Kedavra,_ " Voldemort hissed, and a flash of green light ended the woman's life. " _Corpus Evanesco._ "

Her body Vanished into thin air. Let the Muggle police try to explain that, he thought; the two bodies would be utterly gone, but the door would be locked. Voldemort walked right up to where Rodolphus Lestrange lay Stunned, and he sneered down at the boy's unconscious form,

"You tried to violate my wife. Just you wait until you see what she's got planned for you. You're coming with me, Mr Lestrange."

Then he Summoned the boy up to him and immediately Disapparated, taking Bellatrix's prey to Marsham House.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for that cliffhanger! I want to let the Horcrux creation itself be its own chapter, and I can't properly write it until tomorrow. Thank you for all those being patient with my short chapters on this one as my current writing schedule is quite different from usual. I appreciate your readership and reviews.**


	19. Horcrux

" _CRUCIO!"_

The red web of Bellatrix's light shot like a cannon out of her wand and snared itself around Rodolphus Lestrange. She shivered with delight as he shrieked in terror on the grass outside Marsham House, the mostly-frozen lawn where he'd been writhing for an hour. Bellatrix looked to Voldemort, who stood wrapped in a cloak, and she asked,

"They'd throw me into Azkaban for this, wouldn't they, Master?"

"They'd have to catch you first," Voldemort smirked. Bellatrix snapped her wand up, breaking the spell, and she sneered at Rodolphus,

"You tried to grab my breast. You tried to kiss me. But you had _no idea_ , did you, that that girl was going to be the one to kill you?"

"Kill?" Rodolphus cried. "No, Bellatrix. No. No, please!"

"Master, isn't he adorable when he begs for his life?" Bellatrix jeered, and Voldemort seemed almost afraid of her. He just nodded.

"Pathetic."

"Pathetic, yes." Bellatrix bent down, her breath puffing in clouds before her in the frozen air. She pulled Rodolphus' sweaty brown hair away from his burly face and felt his hands reach for the hem of her dress.

"Let go of me," she hissed. Then, repeating the words she'd said over and over to him at Hogwarts, she whispered, "Get away from me."

"Bella," said a voice from behind her. Bellatrix turned, and Voldemort informed her, "You should finish him off sooner rather than later. You'll need your strength to recover. You're wasting far too much energy teasing him. You need to go ahead and just kill him. Go on now. Do it."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix rose and asked, "Must I use a Killing Curse, or may I… be a little more creative?"

"You can do whatever you like, so long as he dies at your hand," Voldemort said, looking curious. Bellatrix turned up half her mouth and took a few steps back from Rodolphus.

"Bellatrix," he begged her. "Please don't do this. I was wrong. I treated you terribly. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I beg you, let me go home. Let me go back to Tricia."

"Who's Tricia, Master?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort said in a bored voice,

"I'm assuming she's the Muggle wench I killed when I kidnapped him."

"No." Rodolphus put his forehead onto the cold ground and sobbed. "No. Please."

"Blood traitor!" Bellatrix screamed. "Molester! Now you shall die! _Diffindo!_ _Diffindo! Diffindo!_ "

She slashed her wand back and forth, slicing off one arm, then cutting deeply across his back, then slicing hard into his neck. Suddenly Rodolphus was screaming, his arm lying beside him. He was bleeding profusely from his back and his neck and the stump of his shoulder, and as he screamed, Bellatrix called to him,

"I told you to get away from me! You ought to have listened!"

The frosty ground was stained scarlet, and Rodolphus shrieked and shrieked. Bellatrix turned back to Voldemort, who had his arms folded as he asked her over the screams,

"Do you remember the spells, Bella? You'll need them as soon as we go inside."

"I remember, Master," she nodded. The screams quieted, and Bellatrix watched as Rodolphus' pulse slowed and eventually stopped; the blood stopped pumping onto the frosty ground. Bellatrix stepped up to him and started to bend down to investigate, aiming her wand at him. His back wasn't rising or falling anymore, and his eyes were staring blankly at the ground ahead. But just to be safe, Bellatrix aimed her wand at Rodolphus and said firmly,

" _Avada Kedavra!_ "

After the green flash of light faded, she stood, and Voldemort tutted,

"You just had to have your fun with him, didn't you?"

"He assaulted me, My Lord," Bellatrix said seriously, and Voldemort's smirk disappeared. He nodded and asked,

"Have you got the pearls from your wedding day?"

Bellatrix reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the strand of peals that had been in her family for almost a hundred years. She'd worn them on her wedding day to Lord Voldemort and had been instructed to pass them down to a daughter or daughter-in-law. Instead, she would make them into a Horcrux.

"Sorry, Andy and Cissy," she said, for Narcissa and Andromeda would have likely borrowed them on their wedding days. Bellatrix would have to lie and say the pearls had been lost or stolen. But Voldemort had said that heirlooms made good Horcruxes, that they held the soul well. So Bellatrix would use her family's pearls. She watched as Voldemort Vanished Rodolphus' corpse and all of his blood, and then the two of them walked into Marsham House.

"Are you nervous?" Voldemort asked, but Bellatrix just shook her head and insisted,

"I'm anxious to have it done with, Master. I want to be like you. I want to be able to fight with abandon, to fight for you with all that I am. I know there will be battles, and I want to be a soldier who fights without fear of ordinary death."

"That's why you're doing this?" Voldemort asked at the bottom of the stairs, and Bellatrix nodded firmly.

"Yes, My Lord," she said. "That's why I'm doing this."

She followed him up the stairs and to the suite he'd made green for her after seeing in her thoughts that she didn't much care for the blue. She took her time changing into a nightgown, and she climbed into the bed as she held her wand in one hand and her pearls in the other.

"Ready?" Voldemort asked. "Remember, you'll be knocked unconscious by the force of the spells for at least an hour or so, and then you'll be very ill. But I'll be here. Incant the spells when you're ready."

"I'm ready, Master," Bellatrix nodded. He reached for her left hand, dragging his thumb over her wedding rings, and he informed her,

"You are braver than I would have ever guessed, and so much more than I could have ever hoped for in a wife. Every day, for all eternity, I shall love you more."

She blinked through tears and nodded, touching her wand to the pearls.

" _Blood on my soul. Death on my heart. Blood on my soul and death on my heart. Now let my vicious deed rip me apart. Creatio Horcrux. Creatio Horcrux. Creatio Horcrux."_

She felt a yank inside of her, and she heard Voldemort instruct her,

"Once more. Come on, Bella."

" _Blood on my soul. Death on my heart. Blood on my soul and death on my heart. Now let my vicious deed rip me apart. Creatio Horcrux. Creatio Horcrux. Creatio Horcrux._ "

Then all went black, and dark, and cold.

* * *

"How are you this morning?"

Bellatrix sat up very slowly, feeling weak and tired, and she watched as Voldemort and Tippy came walking into her bedroom. Tippy, the little House-Elf, wrung her hands and looked anxious. Voldemort asked Bellatrix,

"Is there anything to eat or drink that Tippy might get you?"

"You know, I think I could eat some fried eggs," Bellatrix mused, and Tippy and Voldemort stared at one another in wonder. Bellatrix added, "and perhaps some orange juice."

"Straight away, Mistress! Yes, yes." Tippy vanished, dashing off down the stairs, and Voldemort looked very pleased as he came into the bedroom and sat on the bed beside Bellatrix.

"You're only two days removed, and already you're craving eggs and orange juice," he said. "I'm so proud of you."

"Master," Bellatrix said, and she kept her face serious. Voldemort frowned, and Bellatrix told him, "I dreamed of something, and it seemed so real that I simply can't stop thinking about it. It was whilst I was unconscious, immediately after incanting the Horcrux spells. I saw this… this vision."

Voldemort's lips parted, and he gulped visibly. "What sort of vision?"

"I saw a boy," Bellatrix said. "A baby. Black hair. He was in his cot, and you'd killed his father. You killed his mother, but when you went to kill the baby boy, it destroyed you. You became… you became nothing."

"That isn't possible," Voldemort said, shaking his head. He seemed like he was going to say more, but Tippy came back in bearing a tray full of fried eggs and a little glass of orange juice. Voldemort shook his head as Tippy put the tray over Bellatrix, and he insisted, "We'll discuss it later. When you're feeling better."

"Promise me, My Lord?" Bellatrix pressed, ignoring the food. "Promise we'll discuss it?"

He nodded and sighed, but he said. "We'll discuss it, Bella, but it was only a dream. Only a vision. I'm sure there was no truth to it."

 **Author's Note: I'm getting very close to 100 reviews on this story, so can I ask my readers a favor? If you've been reading this far and you haven't yet reviewed, would you please kindly take a quick moment to let me know what you think of the story? I'd really appreciate it. Thanks so much to all for reading.**


	20. Destruction

"Enter."

Voldemort expected the office door in Malfoy Manor to open to reveal Abraxas Malfoy or one of his male followers. He was cranky, and he wasn't looking forward to whomever was on the other side of the door. It had been six days now of caring for Bellatrix, who had regressed for a few days before starting to feel better. She was still coughing and vomiting a little, and it was wearing on Voldemort. He looked up from his copy of the _Daily Prophet_ , which was still covering the disappearance of Rodolphus Lestrange, and he saw Etheline Avery stride in and shut the door behind her.

Voldemort blinked.

"You should leave," he said at once, but Etheline instantly shucked her thin outer robe, revealing a silky, skimpy dress, and Voldemort's eyes went wide. "What the blazes are you doing?"

"Giving you what you want, Tom," Etheline said matter-of-factly. Voldemort scowled.

"What makes you think I want _you_?" he demanded, and Etheline put her hands on her narrow waist and blew a blonde wave from her bright eyes.

"I dunno," she guessed sarcastically. "Perhaps it was the way you turned that last kiss into a grinding, moaning sort of -"

"Enough," Voldemort hissed from where he sat. Etheline walked over to him, and he turned his chair toward her, shaking his head.

"She doesn't have to know," Etheline told him. "No one has to know."

Voldemort's stomach churned. "I told her because I love her."

"Love! Tom Riddle in love," Etheline scoffed. Voldemort growled and gripped the arms of the chair.

"Are you mocking me?"

"I confess myself in disbelief," Etheline shrugged. "I never thought I'd hear Tom Riddle - sorry… Lord Voldemort - say the words, _I love her_. Blessings on her, I suppose. But still… you are the Dark Lord now. You must have what you want, even if you do love her. I've heard call you _Master._ Are you the master, or aren't you?"

"Of course I am," Voldemort said through clenched teeth, "but I will be loyal to her from now on, Etheline. What you and I had is in the past. The long past. Bellatrix is my future."

"Your future," Etheline said, crawling onto Voldemort's lap in a way that he did not stop for some reason, "is to have everything you want, because you are the Dark Lord, and Lord Voldemort must be given his every desire. You needn't tell her, because she is your servant. We are all your servants now, aren't we? Let me serve you, My Lord."

"Etheline." Voldemort shook his head and tipped his head back, intending on getting away from her. But she kissed at his neck, and it felt _so_ good, and his hands went to her tiny waist. He whispered frantically, "Get off of me."

"Are you certain?" Etheline reached between them and started to unbutton Voldemort's trousers, and he realised just how hard he was. Could he do this without telling Bellatrix? Perhaps Etheline was right. He was the master. The Dark Lord. He could have what he wanted. He could take without asking. He didn't need anyone's permission to fuck a witch. Not even his wife's. He didn't need anyone's permission to do anything. He was Lord Voldemort.

Suddenly he was sheathed inside of Etheline, and as she started to move on top of him, a shock of horror went up Voldemort's spine. He wrenched Etheline back by her shoulders, and she grinned at him as she pumped her hips, riding him expertly. He shook his head desperately and whispered,

"Get the fuck off of me."

She froze, and he started to soften inside of her. Etheline nodded, her grin vanished, and she climbed slowly off of his body. She made a move for her outer robe, but Voldemort breathlessly stared down at his slick cock, at the fluids that covered it, and then he looked up at Etheline. He reached for his wand and aimed it at her, and her face was suddenly painted with terror.

"I made a mistake, I see," she said quietly, pulling on her outer robe, but Voldemort shook his head.

"The mistake was all mine. _Avada Kedavra!"_

* * *

For two days, he did not speak to Bellatrix. He let Tippy tend to her, and at one point he sent a note upstairs saying that he was very busy, which wasn't untrue. He slept in his own rooms, and he was sure she could hear his footsteps and was wondering why he wasn't coming to visit her. But he couldn't bring himself to put himself in front of her. Finally, two days after he'd spent a scant minute fucking Etheline, he walked right into Bellatrix's room and sat in the chair beside her bed. She was reading _Roses For Clementine_ again. It must be her very favourite book, Voldemort thought. She was reading the leather-bound copy he'd bought her. She set it aside and eyed him curiously, and she said,

"I haven't vomited in twenty-four hours. I hope I do not repulse you now, Master."

"Oh. Please don't talk like that," he said, and his eyes burned as he realised his marriage was about to end. He let out a shaking sigh and handed her a folder he'd spent the last day preparing. Bellatrix frowned in confusion at it, and when she opened it, he heard her sniffle, and she asked,

"You're divorcing me?"

"The other way round, I think," Voldemort said. Bellatrix stared at him, silent tears running down his face, and she shrugged.

"Why would I divorce you, My Lord?"

He cleared his throat and handed her a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from this morning. On the second page was a column that read, _Etheline Avery Reported Missing By Family - Last Seen Shopping in Diagon Alley._

"Etheline Avery," Bellatrix whispered. She looked up at Voldemort, letting out a shaking breath, and she asked, "Why did you kill Etheline Avery?"

Voldemort opened his mouth, felt like a fish, shut his mouth again, and was silent for a long while. Bellatrix was no fool. Let her figure it out; he couldn't say it. But Bellatrix demanded harshly,

"What did Etheline Avery do to earn herself a Killing Curse… _Master?_ "

"She seduced me," Voldemort said in a whisper, and Bellatrix nodded, still crying.

"Again," she said in disbelief. "She seduced you _again._ Another kiss?"

He was silent, shaking his head, and Bellatrix scoffed.

"Worse than that? She just planted herself upon your cock? My goodness, Master; you will need to work on your muscular strength."

"I… tried to think of ways to defend myself, and when I could not, I decided to draught up divorce papers, because… I do not see… a way out of this pit that I have dug myself, so." Voldemort chomped so hard on his lip that he tasted the metallic tang of blood. Bellatrix sniffled again and whispered,

"Why? Why didn't you just make her leave? Why didn't you Imperius her into never coming back?"

"Because she told me that I deserve everything I want, and that I shouldn't need permission, that I shouldn't have to tell anyone," Voldemort snapped. "Because I am the Dark Lord, and I should have whatever I want. So I let her climb onto me, because that idea sounded very alluring."

"Oh. I see." Bellatrix lowered her eyes and eyed the folder on her lap. "Have you got a quill?"

She was going to sign them. She was actually going to sign the divorce papers. Suddenly Voldemort's stomach twisted and his head spun, and he whispered desperately,

"Wait. Bellatrix, please."

"Have you got a quill?" Bellatrix asked again, and Voldemort's blood went cold. He just nodded numbly, reaching into his robes and pulling out a self inking quill. He handed it over with a shaking hand and whispered,

"I love you."

"It's a little late," Bellatrix said lightly. "I'll serve you as a Death Eater; I made that vow in perpetuity, and I shall hold to it. Adultery is one of the very few causes for divorce in an arranged marriage, so I do have to affirm it here. I'm sure you understand. But I shall always be a servant of the Dark Lord. Master."

She said that last word with a sharp bite, and Voldemort's tears burned his eyes so badly that he couldn't see. He couldn't breathe; he couldn't speak to beg her not to do what she was doing. She signed each sheet of parchment with clinical ease, and when she'd finished, she handed him the folder and insisted,

"Sign, if you please, and I'll have my father take me to the Ministry so I can ensure they get filed properly."

She didn't even trust him to do that. She didn't trust him at all anymore. One of his tears boiled over his eye and ran down his cheek, and he asked in a thick, cracked voice,

"You're certain… erm… this is what… you want?"

"I think so, yes." Bellatrix swiped tears from her eyes and said, "I do understand the sensation of thinking you deserve everything, given how high you've climbed for a Half-Blood raised in a Muggle orphanage, but your lack of loyalty to our marriage is more than a little shocking."

Suddenly his mouth fell open, and he felt gravely offended, and he signed every page in the folder as quickly as he could. He closed the folder and handed it over to Bellatrix, and she said,

"If you'll just fetch me that Invigoration Draught there, I feel well enough to Apparate to my parents' house to take care of this. You can go ahead and send my belongings to their house in London, if you please."

"This will destroy my movement," Voldemort snapped, and Bellatrix tipped her head up from the bed as he handed her the bottle of Invigoration Draught. She nodded and said firmly,

"Perhaps if you'd thought of that? Master?"

Then she dropped a few drops of the potion into her mouth and glared at him as he left the room.

 **Author's Note: Oh, Voldemort. Now you've really done it. Will this be the end of their marriage, or will there be some 11th hour effort to save things? How do you come back from two instances of betrayal like this? Hmmm...**


	21. What Are You Doing Here?

_August 1969_

 _Malfoy Manor_

"So, we have infiltrated five Ministry departments," Lord Voldemort said to the fourteen he had gathered, the ones he had named as his Death Eaters. "We can and must do better. I want people in the Department of Mysteries. Rookwood. Try and get in there."

"Yes, My Lord," Rookwood nodded. Voldemort sighed and turned to Corban Yaxley, his old school friend and the father of his second-youngest Death Eater.

"Yaxley," he said, "I'd like you to try and get a promotion as quickly as possible. Imperius if you must. We need elevated positions. If that's all, dismissed."

People began to rise and scatter, and Bellatrix cracked her neck and jaw where she sat far down the table from her master and her ex-husband. It had been five months now since they'd gotten a divorce. Five months since he'd gotten her expelled from Hogwarts with a filthy letter he'd deliberately had the owl 'lose.' Five months since he'd had sex with an old paramour, a witch he'd then murdered. Those five months had felt oddly peaceful. Bellatrix now viewed Lord Voldemort as her lord and master, nothing more. Having her heart so thoroughly broken by him had trained her not to see him as a spouse. He had ruined that.

"Miss Black?"

She turned at the sound of her name and looked up, up, up.

"Hello, Cillian."

Cillian Yaxley, with his sandy blonde hair, was enormous. He was Corban Yaxley's son, very tall and thin, and he had handsome chiseled features. He was twenty-two years old and worked as a reporter at the _Daily Prophet_ , and he'd recently been named a Death Eater. He smiled warmly down at Bellatrix and said nervously,

"I hope you're well."

She grinned. "I am. Thanks. How are you?"

"I'm… I'm well." She could tell he was nervous then as he knitted his fingers together and shifted on his feet. "I wonder, Miss Black, if you might be willing to go to dinner with me. I was thinking… erm… tomorrow night? In… in the White Wyvern?"

"A date?" Bellatrix asked in surprise. She flicked her eyes down the table to see Voldemort in conversation with Abraxas Malfoy, and when she looked back to Cillian Yaxley, she nodded eagerly. "I'd love to. Thank you. What time?"

"Shall I meet you there?" he asked. "Erm… half past seven? Does that suit you?"

"Perfect." Bellatrix grinned and hugged her leather rucksack, the same one she used to use at school, close to her body. "See you then."

"See you," Cillian smiled, and he bowed his head before walking quickly out of the room. Abraxas Malfoy was leaving, too, and Bellatrix tried to make a break for it. But then she heard Voldemort's voice behind her say softly,

"Bella."

She turned round reluctantly, knowing he would be angry about her going on a date with another wizard. He didn't have any right to be angry; he'd been legally at fault in their divorce. She rolled her eyes but was surprised when she turned round and saw a rather dejected look upon his face. He just nodded and told her,

"Enjoy your date."

She hesitated, but finally she gulped and said, "Thank you, Master."

* * *

"This pot pie is so filling; I can't eat another bite." Bellatrix laughed as she pushed her plate away. Cillian joked,

"I could eat mine and yours. My mum says I eat like a mountain troll."

"Well, that's rude," Bellatrix smiled. "So, how are things at the newspaper."

"Just trying to make the news say the things it ought to say," Cillian said, and Bellatrix nodded knowingly. She sipped at her firewhisky, realising she'd had entirely too much of it, and then she decided she wanted more. She swigged it, and she asked,

"What sort of thing do you cover at the _Prophet?_ "

"Missing persons," Cillian grinned, and he winked. "All sorts of missing persons. It's good work."

"Oh, my. That is good for the cause," Bellatrix said, feeling a little drunk. She poured herself some firewhisky from the bottle they'd bought, and she was sloppy in doing it. She sipped some more, and she and Cillian chatted some more about how she kept busy (by reading and writing and learning the spellwork she was meant to have learnt at Hogwarts). They talked about the Quidditch World Cup and all the fuss over it. Then they were both tipsy, and Cillian paid for the meal and the drinks, and they stumbled down the stairs and out into the street.

"Can I take you home?" Cillian asked, but Bellatrix gave him a knowing grin.

"I'd like to go slowly, Cillian," she said, and he nodded.

"Absolutely. I'd be honoured by a second date. This Saturday?"

"That sounds nice," Bellatrix said. "That sounds really nice. Will you bend down so I can kiss your cheek? You're so damned tall."

They both laughed a little then, and Cillian touched her shoulder carefully as he leaned down. She brushed her lips against his freckled cheek and whispered,

"Night, Cillian."

"Night, Bellatrix," he murmured, and suddenly she thought he was very handsome. He Disapparated, and once he was gone, Bellatrix shut her eyes and determined to go home. She Disapparated, but when she came to and opened her eyes, she wasn't where she'd intended on going.

Home.

She'd thought of home and she'd come to Marsham House.

"No, no, no," she whined, for she knew the wards here would warn Voldemort instantly if someone Apparated within them. Sure enough, the front door of the house burst open, and Voldemort came running outside in a black velvet robe with his wand extended. As soon as he saw it was Bellatrix, he lowered his wand, but as he approached, his face seemed off.

"What are you doing here?" he asked bluntly. Bellatrix cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to Apparate here. I… I meant to go home. I'm drunk."

"I see that," Voldemort said. "Did you enjoy your date?"

"I did." Bellatrix tipped her head up and said, "I'm going on a second date with him on Saturday."

"Oh." Voldemort shut his eyes and shrugged. "I'd offer to take you home so you don't Splinch, but I'm just as drunk as you are."

"Are you?" Bellatrix asked lightly. "You got drunk on dry red wine, I wager I haven't been to this house in months. Looks exactly the same."

"Feels different," Voldemort whispered. "It's a lonely place these days."

"I can't pity you, My Lord," Bellatrix scoffed, and he nodded.

"I know." He paused for a long time then and said, "Out of all my Death Eaters, you're the best one."

"We're not doing this," Bellatrix said, shaking her head. She started to walk away, but Voldemort grabbed at her wrist, and she whirled around, about to slap him. He recoiled, and she reminded him in a hiss,

"I killed the last boy who didn't listen to me when I told him to get away."

Voldemort let go and held his hands up in surrender. He looked profoundly emotional all of a sudden, and he told Bellatrix,

"I want you to know that I do not ever intend on touching a witch again."

"That's nice," Bellatrix said in a sing-song voice. Suddenly she remembered taking her divorce papers to the Ministry, where the same Shacklebolt witch who had stitched them together unraveled the threads of their marriage one ticked box at a time. Bellatrix shook her head, shutting her eyes, and she felt drunk and angry and tired. So tired of thinking about him with Etheline Avery. She opened her eyes and whispered,

"If you want to be celibate, My Lord, that's your decision, but it's nothing to do with me."

"Do you remember what I used to tell you?" he asked, his eyes welling, and she scoffed.

"I remember all sorts of things that you used to tell me."

"I used to tell you," he continued, "that with every passing day, I would love you more. And it was true then, Bellatrix…"

"Don't do this," she mumbled.

"And it's true now," he continued. Bellatrix started to stalk off, afraid right now of Apparition, afraid she'd Splinch herself in her drunken confusion. She just kept walking across the lawn in the darkness, but Voldemort followed her and insisted,

"I lost you. I know that. I know I'll never have you back. But I _need_ you to realise, Bella -"

"Don't do this," she whispered to herself.

"How much I love you," he finished. "That's all. That's all. I love you."

Bellatrix yanked off the plain silver earring from her right ear and shoved it at Voldemort.

"Make this into a Portkey, will you?" she asked. "To my parents' house, please. Now."

He sighed and handed her the earring back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Galleon, and he aimed his wand at it. He began muttering a series of spells, and then he set it on the ground. He nodded and told her,

"It'll take you there as soon as you touch it."

"Thank you. Goodnight, My Lord," Bellatrix said, and as she crouched down and reached for the Portkey, she heard his voice, sounding more broken than she'd ever heard it, say,

"Goodnight, Bella."

 **Author's Note: Raise your hand if these two have you all emotional! Gah! It's emotional for me to write this! I don't want to spoil what I have in mind, but I promise it's good. Thank you soooooooo much for your feedback throughout this twist.**


	22. It's Not The Same Thing

"My Lord? You wanted to see me?"

Bellatrix came walking into Voldemort's office, and he froze when he saw her. He'd just sent Mulciber and Nott out from a meeting, and in she came, dressed like a beautiful raven. Her knee-length dress was black silk with feathered accents, and she had a feathered headpiece in her tumbling dark curls. She had kohl around her eyes and deep burgundy lipstick. She had knee-high black boots on. She looked fierce. Sexy. So sexy.

"Hello," Voldemort said, clearing his throat. "Will you sit? We need to talk."

"Of course, Master," Bellatrix said. She approached his desk and said lightly, "Pardon my appearance; I'm going out tonight."

"Oh." Voldemort knew she'd been dating Cillian Yaxley for two weeks now; as far as he knew, this would be their fourth date. Why he was paying so close of attention to all that, he didn't know. He cleared his throat a little and told her,

"Your sister Andromeda is in a formal relationship with the Mudblood Ted Tonks. That makes her, officially, a blood traitor."

"Then I'll hunt her down and kill her," Bellatrix said simply. "She's just leaving for school, right? I can intercept her on a Hogsmeade -"

"I admire your blood lust, Bella. Really, I do," Voldemort said. "But a blood traitor and a Muggle are not nearly the same thing. Right now, at least, we can not go slaughtering Purebloods."

"I killed Rodolphus Lestrange," she reminded him. "You killed Etheline Avery."

He winced at the name, at the memory, and he shook his head as he said, "This is not the same thing. Your parents can wash the stain of Andromeda from your family, disown her, but we can not go killing her. Not for now. Not if I'm to keep the Sacred Twenty-Eight loyal. You leave her be. I see that you disagree, but my orders are final."

"Yes, Master." Bellatrix pinched her lips, looking disappointed. He rather wished now that he hadn't taught her Occlumency. He wanted to know what she thought about Cillian Yaxley. But he wouldn't ask her that. Besides, if she was four dates in, it was rather obvious what she thought of Cillian Yaxley. He nodded and told her,

"That's all. I wanted to discuss the matter with you in person. You may go. Enjoy your night out."

"Thank you, My Lord," she said, rising and moving swiftly from the office. He watched her body sway as she walked on her high heels, watched her hair move, her wand gripped in her hand, and he shut his eyes. When he heard the door close, he let out a shaking breath and barked,

"Malfoy!"

Abraxas Malfoy kept a small office next door and was functioning more or less like Voldemort's assistant. He would hear Voldemort's loud shout, and sure enough, he came trotting into Voldemort's office a moment later.

"My Lord?" he asked, and Voldemort rose slowly.

"Cancel all my meetings," he said simply. Malfoy looked confused.

"For the day, sir?"

"Until further notice," Voldemort said. He let out a breath and said, "I'm going home. I'll let you know when I'm ready to come back. Don't bother me."

Malfoy's mouth fell open, and he stammered, "But… but, My Lord, you -"

"I said not to bother me, Malfoy. Cancel everything," Voldemort said, and he marched straight out of his office.

* * *

The next two weeks passed in a complete blur. Soon enough it was the fifteenth of September, and all Voldemort could think about was that it was only six days until Bellatrix's eighteenth birthday. If she had still been his wife, he'd have been planning something grand now, he thought.

On the morning of the fifteenth, he sat in the conservatory like he'd done every single day from sunrise to sunset for the past two weeks. He stared blankly out the windows, the leather-bound copy of _Roses For Clementine_ that Bellatrix had left at the house beside him. He dusted his fingers over the book and stared out onto the grassy lawn and whispered,

"I'd have thrown you a party, Bella."

He would have, too. He would have thrown a party and invited all the Death Eaters. And he would have had a grand cake with fresh lemon and vanilla. He would have had beef on skewers and dry red wine. He would have made everyone sing to her and embarrass her, and then he would have presented her with beautiful emerald and platinum jewellery. And he would have declared her the Dark Lady, for if he was the Dark Lord, then she must be the Dark Lady.

But she'd signed those divorce papers that day in March, and she'd taken them to the Ministry with her father, and so instead, she was Miss Black, and she was dating Cillian Yaxley.

Voldemort's chest hurt.

Every single day, his chest hurt worse. Power tasted bitter, it turned out, without Bellatrix beside him. His life tasted rotten in his mouth, like meat gone bad, without her beside him. And the thought of an existence with Horcrux upon Horcrux, just going on forever without her, was intolerable.

"Master?" Tippy the House-Elf appeared in the conservatory, and Voldemort just grunted in response. He'd felt a little vibration a few moments earlier; someone had Apparated here. There was a visitor. He turned his head very slowly to Tippy and demanded,

"Who is it?"

"It is Miss Bellatrix Black, Master," Tippy said anxiously, and Voldemort's heart began to race. He tried to summon the energy to rise and meet her at the front door, but he couldn't. He glanced down at his brocade dressing gown and Scoured himself so that at least he wouldn't smell bad. He hadn't bathed in a week, he reckoned. He sighed and told Tippy,

"Bring her back here."

Tippy pranced off, and Voldemort licked his lip very carefully. He set Bellatrix's book on the table before him, thinking that if she saw it, she'd think him mad. Ah, well. She'd probably think him mad now, anyway.

"Master?"

He turned his head a little at the sound of her voice. Today, a rainy day, she'd come in a lightweight rain cloak and a simple black wool dress. She had her hair yanked into a braid over one shoulder and wore no makeup. She was absolutely beautiful. She came and sat in the chair beside the wrought iron sofa where he was. He just stared at her, and eventually she said,

"No one's heard from you in two weeks, Master. You haven't answered Malfoy's owls. Everyone is very concerned. Finally we held a meeting, and they asked me to come check on you."

"Oh." Voldemort shrugged. "I've… lost interest."

"Lost interest?" Bellatrix repeated in disbelief. "Lost interest in _what?_ "

"Everything," Voldemort said numbly, turning and staring out the glass again. Bellatrix sighed very deeply, and she informed him,

"Cillian Yaxley is a very sweet young man, but he and I are ill-suited for an actual relationship. After five dates and a few kisses, that became obvious to both of us. We'll stay friendly, but… it wasn't a good match. Thought you might want to know."

"Sorry to hear that," Voldemort lied, though his heart picked up in his chest a little bit. He gulped and told Bellatrix,

"I found an interesting spell in a book the other day. I… mustered the energy… to read a little. I thought I remembered hearing about it on the Continent. It's a spell that is similar to an Unbreakable Vow. What it does is makes it physically impossible - literally, physically impossible - for the person casting the vow to commit adultery. If they do, they'll die. Now… I have Horcruxes, but it would make me lose my body."

"My Lord," Bellatrix said in a warning tone, "Whilst that spell sounds very promising for your next relationship, you and I are no longer married."

"I know." Voldemort flicked his eyes to where _Roses For Clementine_ lay on the table. Suddenly he heard quiet crying beside him, and when he turned his head, he frowned to see Bellatrix swiping tears away from her eyes. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but she whispered,

"Ask me to dinner."

"What?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had he indeed gone mad? Bellatrix raised her eyes to him and nodded, saying carefully,

"Ask me to come here to Marsham House for dinner. And promise me that someday you'd use that spell."

Voldemort's jaw dropped. He couldn't see through the abrupt emotion, couldn't breathe through it. Somehow he managed to ask her,

"Please, Miss Black, would you do me the profound honour of coming here to my home for dinner?"

"Yes, of course, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. "I'd be delighted."

"A date?" Voldemort asked cautiously, not wanting to get his hopes up, and Bellatrix licked her lip and said in a shaking voice,

"I want to start all over with you. Master."

"Oh." He shut his eyes and felt everything come alive within him. He rose then and walked over to where Bellatrix sat. He reached for her left hand, the hand where she'd once worn wedding rings from him, and he bent down. He kissed her knuckles and whispered,

"Thank you, Miss Black."

"Why don't you go get dressed?" she suggested. "There are a lot of people waiting for you at Malfoy Manor."

"Is that the only reason you're coming here for dinner?" Voldemort asked, still holding her hand. "Because there are people waiting for me at Malfoy Manor?"

"No." Bellatrix shook her head and squeezed his fingers a little. "I'm coming to dinner for the same reason that I'm going to make you promise to use that spell, for the same reason I'm going to make you start at the beginning, for the same reason I broke things off with Cillian Yaxley… because, no matter how hard I try, My Lord, I can not help but love you."

She stood then, and he held her face in his hands, but he knew far better than to kiss her on the mouth. Instead he put his lips to her forehead, holding them there for a very long moment, and he whispered,

"I'll go get dressed."

 **Author's Note: Ahhhhhhhh! They're "starting over"! With dinner at Marsham House! And a loyalty vow! Yeahhhhhh! As always, PLEASE leave a review if you get a chance. Thank you so much.**


	23. If You Would Attend Marsham House

_Dear Miss Bellatrix Black,_

 _It would bring me great pleasure if you would attend Marsham House this evening at seven o'clock for dinner._

 _Regards, Lord Voldemort_

Bellatrix stared at the owl that had come to her parents' house and smiled just a little. He was in charge these days. He was in charge of nearly everything. The Ministry was really beginning to fear him. He had over a dozen Death Eaters. But they had been divorced for longer than they'd been married now, and so they really were starting over. But she could see that he was taking the opportunity seriously.

She decided to dress for the occasion. She wanted to dress formally, but not scandalously. She chose a dress that hit her knees, a caped confection of creped silk. The cape was exactly the same length as the dress, and so the completed look was exceedingly elegant. Bellatrix debated pulling on some of the jewellery that he'd bought her when they'd been married, but she decided that would send entirely the wrong message. She no longer had her pearls; those were now a Horcrux hidden deep within the walls of a Muggle castle ruin outside Doncaster. Instead she went without jewellery, almost deliberately.

She pulled her curls into an simple but serene twist at the back of her head and put on dark red lipstick and black winged eyeliner. She studied her reflection and thought she didn't look all that bad, and she slipped black high heels on. She put her wand into her Expanded black purse with her charmed-to-stay lipstick, and she headed downstairs.

"Off on a date, darling? I thought you and Cillian broke things off," said Druella from the sitting room. Bellatrix cleared her throat. She hadn't told her parents yet about dinner at the Dark Lord's house. She wasn't sure how they'd react. They'd been very hurt when he'd been untrue to Bellatrix, when they'd had to get a divorce, but the fact that Voldemort had kept the Black family in very good graces even through Andromeda's blood traitor mess meant they were loyal to him. Should she tell them?

"I'm just off to dinner with a man," she said. "I'd rather… I'll let you know how it goes."

"Oh. All right," Druella said, returning to her book. "Have a nice evening, dear."

"Thanks, Mum." Bellatrix Disapparated from the foyer of her parents' house and came to outside Marsham House. She gulped hard as she stared up at the beautiful stone structure that had once been home. She sighed. She'd only lived here for a very brief time; most of her six months of marriage to Voldemort had been spent at school. She did really feel as though this was an entirely new beginning. She walked up to the front door and clicked the knocker against the wood a few times, and then it swung open.

"Hello, Tippy," she said to the House-Elf who had nursed her after she'd made her Horcrux. Tippy bowed deeply, nearly toppling over, and said,

"Miss Black. Please, if you will come in."

Bellatrix stepped into the foyer to see that the piano in the formal parlour was playing soothing music on itself. She smirked a bit. So he'd gone quite out of his way, then. Well, good. Let him go out of his way.

Suddenly he came walking around the stairs, as though he'd come out of his office, and Bellatrix's mouth fell. He had tuxedo robes on, and he'd had a haircut to neaten things up. He looked… spiffy. He looked sexy. She swallowed hard and bowed her head.

"Master. Thank you for having me."

"Thank you for coming," he said seriously. He held out his hand to her - a gloved hand, she saw now - and he said tightly, "I trust you don't need a tour of the place."

"No. Not unless you've changed anything," Bellatrix said. He shook his head, and she took his fingers, and she let him lead her through the sitting room and into the dining room. He pulled her chair out for her with his hands instead of his wand, and then he pushed her back in. He sat opposite her instead of at the head of the table like he usually did. He pulled off his gloves, and he said,

"I thought perhaps a Champagne toast to begin, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind," Bellatrix said, breathless all of a sudden. This was rather romantic, she thought. The empty Champagne flutes at the very crowded table filled themselves with bubbly golden liquid, and then Voldemort raised his glass. Bellatrix did the same, trying not to shake as he said quite confidently,

"To chances granted, though likely not earned, and to books whose stories have yet to be written."

Bellatrix's eyes welled, and she nodded. "I shall drink to that. My Lord."

They sipped, and then the first course of seared scallops appeared upon their plates. Bellatrix cut into hers and noted,

"Tippy still can manage quite a meal, can't she?"

"Quite," Voldemort nodded. They ate in quiet for a while, until the scallops disappeared and the wine glasses filled with a dry red. A beet and arugula salad appeared on the plates, and Bellatrix said,

"You know, I should be angry with you that I'm not at Hogwarts. But I'm not. I've learnt so much more as a Death Eater… so much more for being a Death Eater… I know more about potioneering and spell-casting. The things that really matter."

"What, you aren't angry that your tea leaf reading career was cut a bit short?" Voldemort teased, and she grinned as she ate a golden beet. She shook her head.

"McGonagall had us Transfiguring socks into candles. What use is that? I've learnt how to Transfigure clothing into tightly bound ropes. That seems more useful."

Voldemort looked very impressed, and as he finished his salad, he said, "I was very happy with your work in Liverpool in June. Burning out that factory. I wasn't expecting anything so grand as that. You're brave. I like it."

"Thank you." Bellatrix licked her lip and wondered aloud, "What happens when you're really in charge? When everyone wants a piece of you?"

He sipped his red wine as the remnants of the salad disappeared, replaced by strips of rare steak and a few little potatoes. He said very seriously,

"I meant it when I said I would use that spell. That vow. I meant it. People can try. I have demonstrated in the past that I am susceptible to the seduction that comes with being powerful. But I refuse… if you were to grant me another opportunity, Bellatrix, I would refuse to break again. And so I would use that spell, knowing full well that to violate my vow to you would be my downfall."

Bellatrix nodded and huffed. "Let's talk about something else. I think I'd like to take a holiday soon, with your permission. I've got money for it; I only need leave from you."

"A holiday." Voldemort cut a piece of his steak and ate it, and he asked, "Where will you go?"

"The Canary Islands," Bellatrix said. "I've already got an itinerary with Globus Mundi. I just need permission from you to go."

"Of course you can go," Voldemort nodded. They ate their steak and potato and sipped their wine for a while, and then he asked,

"When will you go?"

"Oh. Erm… three days from now, on the twentieth?" Bellatrix suggested, and Voldemort frowned.

"You'll be gone for your birthday."

"That's the idea," Bellatrix grinned. "I'd rather spend it alone on a beach than with my parents, you know?"

"I see." Voldemort set down his knife and fork, and the food gave way to beautiful pistachio baklava, a flaky treat she knew he'd grown fond of during his time on the Continent. She relished the honey and pistachio flavours as she ate it, and once she'd finished, she complained,

"Master, that was entirely too much food."

"Sorry," he whispered, but as he stared at her across the table, he didn't seem very sorry. He dragged his finger around the bottom of his wine glass, staring at it, and said, "I'd rather you wait to go on holiday until after your birthday, if you please."

"Why?" Bellatrix asked. Then, realising she was being insubordinate, she amended, "Why, Master?"

"Because I… well, I suppose it's… not a surprise anymore. I planned a party for you." He raised his eyes, and her mouth fell open in shock. He shrugged and said, "All the Death Eaters. It was meant to be a surprise, but now I suppose it's just a party. Your parents weren't invited. It was to be a grand little celebration of you at Malfoy Manor. Our youngest Death Eater. Our bravest… turning eighteen. Why not have a party?"

"Oh." Bellatrix nodded frantically and whispered, "I'll go some other time. In the spring or something. Erm… you know, I don't have to… I'll go some other time."

"You'll be at the party?" Voldemort asked, and she just nodded again, feeling entirely helpless, lost to him for some reason. All she could manage to say was,

"Thank you."

* * *

They talked in the conservatory for an hour. They talked about stupid little things, about how the plumbing in Bellatrix's parents' house needed fixing and had to have hot water spells cast for every shower at the moment. They talked about important things, like Andromeda and Rookwood getting into the Department of Mysteries. They talked about how Rabastan Lestrange wanted to become a Death Eater and whether Voldemort could trust him. They talked about how Elias Crabbe's forty-two-year-old wife was pregnant with their eighth child. They talked and talked until finally it felt like Bellatrix should go. She just knew that if she stayed, things would spiral. So she stood from the conservatory chair and said warmly to Voldemort,

"Thank you for dinner."

"Let me walk you outside," he insisted. "I assume your parents don't know you're with me, and you therefore won't let me escort you home."

She just smiled, and as they walked outside into the warm September night, Voldemort whispered,

"Please, Bella, may I have one kiss goodnight?"

"I think that's reasonable, My Lord," Bellatrix nodded. He carefully took both of her cheeks in his hands, still looking magnificent in his tuxedo robes. He bent down very slowly, and Bellatrix's heart pounded. It had been more than six months since he'd kissed her. Now, when he did it, it was like the very first time, only even more gentle than that. He was soft, careful, deliberate. His lips brushed hers, then pushed a little, and then he pulled away. That was it; that was all he did.

"Goodnight." He seemed overcome then, nodding down at her, and she planted her hands flat on the chest of his tuxedo robes as she whispered,

"Goodnight."

Then she Disapparated, leaving him standing there looking very handsome in the lawn of the house that had once been their home.

Author's Note: Well, it certainly seems like he's doing his damndest to earn her back, no? And it sounds like these six months have been very, very good to his power and his movement. Now… did someone mention a birthday party?


	24. Prove It

"Is this really what's popular these days?" Voldemort shouted over the blaring music. Abraxas Malfoy's son Lucius had put on a record, which was playing through magically Amplified speakers. Abraxas shrugged.

"My Lord, I think you and I are far too old to appreciate what's popular these days."

Bellatrix was standing near the drinks table, holding a martini glass and laughing with her sister Narcissa. The two girls were animatedly chatting about one thing or another, and Voldemort sighed to see Bellatrix so happy.

"My Lord?" asked a voice over the cry of the rock n' roll. Voldemort turned and squinted, trying to listen to Corban Yaxley as he said loudly, "I wanted to let you know, My Lord, that I have been promoted! I've just found out before coming here."

"Congratulations," Voldemort said smoothly. "What is your new position?"

"Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, sir," Yaxley said, and Voldemort felt his spirits rise enormously. Then Cillian Yaxley walked up, and the elder Yaxley said, "Cillian has some news, too, sir."

"I've been given a weekly column at the newspaper, My Lord," Cillian said, and Voldemort smirked.

"Well. It seems the Yaxleys are doing quite well for themselves. Keep on climbing, boys. Ever onward." He clapped them on the shoulders, and they seemed quite pleased with themselves. Voldemort walked off and ran almost straight into Mulciber, who was obviously a few drinks into the party.

"'Scuse me, Master," he mumbled. "Just headed to the loo."

"Slow down on the firewhisky, Mulciber," Voldemort scolded, and Mulciber smiled.

"Yes, sir."

Voldemort gulped as he eyed Bellatrix and Narcissa where they stood. She sipped at her martini, and suddenly he wanted to taste it on her lips. He wanted to hold her, to dance with her. He needed to dance with her. He whirled around and stalked straight up to Abraxas Malfoy, and he said loudly,

"Put on music for dancing. Proper dancing."

"Yes, My Lord," Abraxas said knowingly. He let the song finish out, and as he changed the record, Voldemort strode across the ballroom toward Bellatrix. She stared at him as he neared, and then she set her martini glass down on the table beside her. Narcissa curtsied a little and then scampered off, and Voldemort held out his hand.

"Miss Black," he said, licking his bottom lip cautiously, "I wonder if you would be so good as to grant me this dance."

"What dance, My Lord?" she asked, for the music hadn't started yet. But then the song began, a slow two-step, and he tipped his head.

"That dance."

"Oh." She took his hand and nodded. "All right."

She let him lead her out toward the dance floor, and he knew that there would only be a few couples dancing. He didn't care. He needed to dance with her. Suddenly, as he pulled her into his arms and pressed his hand to the back bared by her sequined black dress, everything was right. She had still divorced him, and he had still broken her heart, but they were dancing together, and so all was right. She didn't look up at him like she used to do, he noticed. When they'd danced in the past, she'd stared up at him as though he were a flame and she were a moth. But now she stared at the buttons on his dress robes, and he murmured,

"You look very pretty tonight, Miss Black."

"Thank you." She held his hand loosely, and she didn't grip his shoulder. That wounded him a little, but he supposed he deserved it. He couldn't stop himself, though, as they swayed, from informing her,

"I am more in love with you today than any day of my existence."

She did look up at him then, and she shook her head a little as she whispered, "Don't break me again."

"I have no intention… I _promise_ ," he told her. "I am going to make that vow, the Vow of Loyalty. I will lay down my life for the mere opportunity to hold you again, Bellatrix."

Her pretty eyes watered then, and he shook his head firmly.

"It's your birthday party. Don't cry."

"You're making me cry," she complained, and he bent down and touched his lips to her forehead. Suddenly he remembered their wedding day, when he'd been forbidden from kissing her properly. How he'd wanted to do it. He'd been dancing with her in her wedding gown, and he'd wanted to kiss her, but all he could do was brush his lips against her forehead like he was doing now.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. He hadn't said that on their wedding day. He hadn't meant it yet. Bellatrix suddenly stopped dancing, pressing her palms and her face against the chest of his robes, and Voldemort was a little shocked by it. He glanced around to see people very surprised by the sight of Bellatrix Black collapsed against her ex-husband. Voldemort just wrapped his arms around her and stood there for a long moment, and he whispered,

"I wish you had kept that locket I gave you."

"What, this locket?" Bellatrix pulled back and sniffed a little. Her eyes were rimmed red. She reached into the high neckline of her black sequined dress and pulled out the silver oval locket he'd given her at Christmas. She opened it right there on the dance floor and pulled out the little folded square of parchment. Voldemort didn't need to read it to know what it said.

 _Every day, I shall love you more._

"It's true," he told her. "It's been true all this excruciating while."

Bellatrix folded it up and tucked it into the locket, which she clicked shut. She left the locked out of her dress and shrugged.

"Will you prove that?" she asked, "or do Dark Lords not need to prove such things?"

"I'll prove it," he said, almost defensively. "You'll see. You'll see starting right now. Just you watch, Miss Black."

He walked over to the drinks table then, snatching two glasses of red wine. He carried one to her and then went to the music and pulled the needle off the record. It stopped playing with a scratch, and everyone's attention was suddenly on Lord Voldemort. He held up his wine glass a little and said,

"Today, we have gathered to celebrate the eighteenth birthday of my youngest Death Eater. She is also my most fearsome Death Eater. She is also… she is…"

He felt rather weak then, standing there in front of everyone discussing this. But he had to. He didn't have a choice. He cleared his throat and said,

"Nikolas Avery. I killed your wife."

Avery's mouth fell open where he stood, and he dropped his own glass of wine. Voldemort nodded and said,

"You all heard that the divorce documents between Miss Black and myself listed adultery as the cause of separation. That became public knowledge and my shame. What was not clear was the source of the adultery. Well, Avery, it was your wife. It was Etheline. The first time, I allowed it in exchange for an enormous monetary contribution. She whored us both out. The second time, she climbed atop me and stripped her clothes off. Your wife was an utter whore, Avery, and I killed her because she led the Dark Lord himself down a path of destruction. I _do not abide_ those stand in my way. Am I understood? I will not apologise to you, Avery!"

Avery shook where he stood, and the room was utterly silent. Avery got down on his knees and muttered,

"Mercy, My Lord. Mercy, Miss Black. I am sorry for what Etheline did. What shame. What a terrible shame… she deserved -"

"Enough," hissed Voldemort. "I said I would not apologise to you, Avery, and I won't. But I will apologise, here before you all, to the witch who was so wounded by my egregious transgressions. Bellatrix."

He turned his face to her, and she looked like she was going to faint where she stood. She was in shock, standing there beside her sister. He raised his glass to her and informed her and everyone else,

"I will never, ever deserve you. Not ever. I did not deserve you when I signed the contract to marry you. I did not deserve you when I made you my first Death Eater. I did deserve to lose you. But I beseech you now, before our friends gathered, to grant me a speck of forgiveness - just enough to dance with you one more time tonight. Grant me that on your eighteenth birthday, and I will be a happy man for eternity. I beg you, Miss Black… will you grant me another dance?"

She swayed a little where she stood, but she nodded silently, and he sipped his dry red wine and whispered,

"Happy birthday, Bella."

* * *

Three dances.

She gave him three more dances. By the end of the third, she was staring up at him again, squeezing his hand a little, and she finally murmured,

"Take me home."

"Are you that drunk?" Voldemort asked, for she didn't seem like she'd had enough to Splinch. Bellatrix shook her head and whispered,

"Take me to Marsham House. With you. Please."

"Bella." His lips parted, and he shook his head a little. "You may regret that tomorrow."

"Then I'll regret it tomorrow," she said. "Tonight I want to sleep with you. Master."

He gulped and nodded. "Let me know when you're ready to -"

"Now. I'm ready to go now," she said softly, and the blaze in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. He took her hand and led her from the ballroom, figuring that the Dark Lord did not need to say goodbye to anyone.

 **Author's Note: Um. Well. THAT was a party. Now… who's interested in the biggest make-up lemon in Bellamort history? (I mean, come on; it's a DIVORCE make-up lemon. Woo hoo!)**


	25. Ask Me On A Second Date

When they Apparated into Marsham House, Voldemort shooed Tippy away and murmured to Bellatrix,

"May I take your cloak?"

"Oh. Thank you." She stripped it off and handed it to him, and as he hung it on the rack by the door, she slowly padded up the stairs. She hadn't been up here in almost seven months. The very last time she'd come down these stairs, she'd been holding a folder full of divorce documents, crying her eyes out. Now her heart thumped as she reached the top of the steps and peered into 'her' rooms. They were still green, like he'd transformed them to be for her. She stepped closer to them and realised he'd left them exactly as they'd been. Her wardrobes were still there. Her boudoir was still set up with the silver brushes and mirrors he'd bought for her. It was perfectly clean.

"I couldn't exactly change it," Voldemort muttered from behind her, and when she whirled around, she whispered,

"And your rooms? Who's been in your rooms?"

"No one," he said very seriously. Bellatrix tipped her head.

"Tell me the truth."

"I am," he nodded. "I've been quite alone, very much on purpose. I have learnt, over these last months, that if it can not be you, it must be no one.. There has been no one in my bed, Bellatrix."

"Well," she said softly, "I'd… I'd like to break your drought."

He smirked a little and seized her fingers, taking her and leading her toward his dark and shadowy rooms. Inside, he lit the wall sconces and murmured,

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you." She slipped her dress up and over her head, obviously surprising him. He stared at her there in her black lace bra and knickers, and his jaw just dropped. He slowly unfastened the clasps of his outer robe and let it fall, and then he paused and leaned onto the footboard of his bed.

"I need to take something," he said.

"Take something?" Bellatrix repeated, and he nodded.

"Girding Potion," he said, sounding embarrassed. Bellatrix's eyebrows went up. Cillian had taken Girding Potion, the one time they'd had sex, because he'd been very worried about finishing too quickly. But Cillian was in his early twenties. Lord Voldemort was a man in his forties. So far as Bellatrix knew, premature ejaculation was a trouble for the young. But there Voldemort stood, eyes shut, panting a little, and he actually dared to ask her,

"Would you mind going to the Potions Stores downstairs…"

"I'll be right back," she said, feeling rather amused. She couldn't help, as she padded down the stairs with her wand in her hand, feeling a little proud of herself that she'd made a man like Voldemort feel so anticipatory that he'd worried about finishing straight away. She opened the Potions stores cupboard in the conservatory and aimed her wand at them.

" _Accio_ Girding Potion," she said, and the small red bottle came flying up at her. She carried the bottle back through the house and up the stairs, and when she got back up there, Voldemort had stripped down to just his trousers. He'd grown a little flabby, she could see, more so than he'd been before their divorce. He was still far from 'fat,' as he liked to denigrate himself, but he had a bit of a paunch, and his broadness had a softness about it. Bellatrix didn't mind one bit; she found him immensely sexy. But he shifted on his feet and said,

"I apologise for having aged so badly."

"On the contrary, Master; I find you delicious," Bellatrix said, but she realised at once that he thought she was mocking her. She let her smile fade, and she walked right up to him and put her hand on his chest. She put the bottle of Girding Potion in one of his hands, and she whispered,

"I am attracted to you."

He stared at the Girding Potion for a while and then Banished it to the bedside table. He flicked his eyes up and down Bellatrix's form, and he said firmly,

"Take off the bra and knickers. Please."

Oh. He was taking control now. Her cheeks went hot, and she nodded. She liked this.

"Yes, Master."

She stripped down for him, and she could see him becoming terribly aroused by not only the sight of her naked form, but by the way she'd obeyed him. She gave him a serious look and asked,

"What shall I do now?"

His dark eyes flared. He visibly gulped. He pointed to the bed and said,

"Go lie down."

"Yes, Master," she whispered, and she heard him let out a rickety breath. She climbed up onto his bed, and she prompted him,

"Shall I just leave my hands like this, or… or are you going to…"

"Put them above your head," he barked, and Bellatrix tried not to smirk. Oh, yes. She liked this. This wasn't even a game. This was real. He was her master. He was Lord Voldemort. And this - _this_ \- was what he needed. She was flushed wet between her legs now, and she gasped when she put her hands up and heard him incant,

" _Incarcerous._ "

Her wrists were suddenly bound to the headboard of the bed, and Bellatrix moaned. Voldemort whipped his wand at her and snarled,

" _Gaudens._ "

Bellatrix squirmed as a sudden orgasm took her over. Her walls clenched _hard_ through the climax, and she drove her head back and yanked at the ropes.

"Master!"

" _Gaudens!_ " he exclaimed, and before she could even begin recovering from the first one, another wave of pleasure took her over. Bellatrix cried out in bliss, in agony, and white heat washed over her.

" _Gaudens!_ " she distantly heard Voldemort say. At some point, she heard him say it a fourth time, and then a fifth and a sixth. By then, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. This was torture. Sweet torture.

"No… more…" she begged him, for her body felt like it was made of jelly and was utterly exhausted.

" _Emancipare,_ " she heard him breathlessly incant. Then she heard the sink running in the bathroom, and suddenly his voice was beside her.

"Here you are."

She tried to sit up, dizzy and tired, and she whispered, "Oh, where am I?"

She was handed a glass of water, which she sipped, and she muttered,

"I've never… oh, Master, I can't… felt so…."

"Good, I hope," he said stiffly. "Lie on your stomach, will you?"

"Yes." She set her glass down and shook like a leaf as she moved onto her stomach. She heard him stripping off his trousers, and then she felt the tip of his wand at her abdomen and heard him incant,

" _Nongravidare._ "

He tipped her hips up and back, and when he pushed it, she was so sensitised from all the coming that it almost hurt. But after a moment, the sliding in and out felt awfully good. His hands on her backside felt awfully good. Then he began to speed up his thrusts. In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out. Banging, pushing, thrusting, yanking. It felt so damned _good._ And soon enough, the rubbing against Bellatrix's clit was incessant, and the push onto her cervix was nonstop, and she was moaning helplessly. She banged her fist onto the pillow and exclaimed desperately,

"I'm going to come."

"Liar," Voldemort laughed from behind her, but Bellatrix's walls contracted of their own accord, and she knew he could see and feel it perfectly well from where he was. He paused for a moment, scoffing in wonder, then groaning and apparently losing himself to the visual stimulus of her coming around his cock. She felt him pumping his seed into her, twitching inside of her, and he marveled,

"I didn't even inflict that one on you."

"Oh, yes you did," Bellatrix whined into the pillow. After a long moment, he pulled out of her and muttered some wandless spells to clean them up, and he came to lie beside her. The two of them curled up naked below the sheets, and suddenly all of this felt very familiar. Too familiar.

"Bella?" Voldemort asked after about ten minutes of complete silence, and she rolled her head toward him. He shrugged. "You're a damned good Occlumens now. What are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering if I should go home," Bellatrix said, "so that I don't regret it in the morning."

"And if you regret it in the morning?" Voldemort asked, chewing his lip. "I'll let you throw vases and be very angry with me if you do."

Bellatrix choked a little laugh and shook her head. She sighed and said,

"Ask me on a second date."

"A second date," Voldemort smiled, and he reached to tuck her hair behind her ear. He was more limited, she knew, owing to his public status, as to where he could take a person on a date. So her eyes burned a little when he said, "Miss Black, I wonder if you would do me the profound honour of going to Amsterdam by Portkey for the evening and attending a wizarding cabaret there."

"Amsterdam," Bellatrix repeated in shock, and she shrugged. "All right. When?"

"Thursday," Voldemort said. "The twenty-fifth."

"All right." Bellatrix grinned and sat up. She pulled herself out of the bed and began to dress, and Voldemort cleared his throat from where he sat.

"You're not staying the night. You… erm… you said you wanted to stay the night."

"I do want to," she said honestly, "very, very badly, and that's exactly why I'm going home."

"That makes absolutely no sense to me," Voldemort protested, seeming almost angry. Bellatrix flashed him a little smile and nodded.

"I know." She pulled on her shoes and said sincerely, "Master, thank you for a spectacular birthday party and an all-round wondrous birthday. I look forward to Amsterdam."

"Well, goodnight, then," he said rather grumpily from the bed. He rose, naked, and walked quickly over to her. "May I at least kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes," she affirmed, and he took the opportunity to take her face in his hands and bent, pushing his tongue between her lips and dragging it over the roof of her mouth.

She wasn't ready for it all to be the same again, she thought. She needed this all to begin again with him. She wanted to be happy with him, and that meant one foot in front of the other. One foot. Then the next foot. Sex after the party. Then a night in Amsterdam. She had to go home tonight.

She put her hands on his chest and pulled back a little, staring up at him, and she whispered,

"Thank you for what you did at the party. For what you said."

"Happy birthday, Bellatrix," he replied, touching at the locket round her neck. She smiled a bit and nodded.

"Thursday, then. I'm sure I'll hear from you sooner on Death Eater business. Goodnight, My Lord."

"Goodnight, Bella," he said, and with that, she Disapparated.

 **Author's Note: Makeup sex! Makeup sex! Makeup sex! Amsterdam! Amsterdam! Amsterdam! At least Bellatrix had the good sense not to spend the night, eh? It would seem that doing that *right now* might ruin everything. Thank you so much for feedback.**


	26. Yours And Yours Alone

"Mr Yaxley. It sounds like you're in a spot of trouble."

"I am, My Lord." Cillian Yaxley was anxious where he sat opposite Voldemort at the desk in Malfoy Manor. He dragged his fingers through his sandy hair and confessed, "My editor is on the brink of sacking me. He says that I'm a _blood purist_ and that it comes through in my writing."

"And have you tried Confounding or Imperiusing him?" Voldemort asked flatly.

"I have, sir, but I think he's suspicious," Cillian said. "The other day, he called me into his office for a meeting and told me that he didn't like my opinions, not one bit, and that he wanted me to cease at once including any of them in the newspaper. He took away my column."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Have you got the strength for this, or not, boy?"

"I have, My Lord." Cillian's cheeks reddened, but Voldemort hissed,

" _Legilimens._ "

He invaded Cillian's mind then, watching the conversations with the editor of the _Daily Prophet,_ the conversations with Corban Yaxley, and finally he saw Cillian's mind drift to Bellatrix. He should have pulled out of Cillian's mind then, he thought, but he didn't. Instead he watched as Cillian and Bellatrix kissed, as they stripped their clothes off in front of one another. That was enough for him, and he yanked himself out.

"She doesn't want me," Cillian insisted, "My Lord."

"But you want her," Voldemort said, for he could feel it. "You want her, and you can't do your job."

"Please," Cillian said, "Don't kill me. Please don't kill me."

 _Confundo!_ Voldemort raised his wand and aimed it straight at Cillian Yaxley. The boy vibrated where he sat, and Voldemort lowered his wand. He sighed and said,

"You will successfully Imperius the editor of the _Daily Prophet,_ won't you? You'll find the courage to do it. I know you can."

"I can do that, Master," Cillian said, and Voldemort smirked. He nodded and added, "You should move on to someone else. Leave the idea of Bellatrix behind. She's all wrong for you."

"You know, she is," Cillian agreed, tipping his head a little. "She is all wrong for me, Master."

"Good boy," Voldemort smiled. "Dismissed."

* * *

Voldemort studied his reflection in his full-length mirror and wondered if he'd overdressed. He'd donned very formal robes for their night out in an Amsterdam cabaret. He meant to make it special for Bellatrix, to make her really and truly enjoy it.

He heard a knocking on the door downstairs, and he went dashing down the steps as Tippy went up to the door. It opened, and Bellatrix came walking in, wearing a very casual set of leggings and a black tunic. It was the same outfit she'd had on earlier in the Death Eater meeting where they'd discussed Mudbloods at the _Daily Prophet_. He frowned and asked her,

"Do you not want to go?"

"I do not think it is a good idea to go to Amsterdam, My Lord," Bellatrix said quietly, and his stomach flopped. She didn't want to go on a date with him. She was slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. He cleared his throat and asked her plainly,

"Why not?"

"Because, Master," she said, "You'll be recognised."

"Well, I can Transfigure my features. And yours," he insisted, almost desperately. She tipped her head and whispered,

"I think it is best for your movement, Master, if you stay… hidden. Underground. Everyone knows you now. Everyone. And I don't want to go to a cabaret in Amsterdam and have someone assassinate you."

"I'd like to see them try," Voldemort sneered, but Bellatrix rolled her eyes and said,

"I wouldn't. Please." She stepped up to him and put her hands flat on his chest. She whispered, "I'm going to the Canary Islands."

"Hmm. Yes, I did promise you you could go," Voldemort hummed, and he covered her hands with his on his chest. She looked up at him, seeming to consider something, and she noted,

"I'm going by Portkey to a very secluded spot. A private spot."

"Are you?" He felt a little breathless then, but Bellatrix just nodded and told him,

"I'm leaving in the morning. I'll only be gone for four days. I'll check in with you upon my return, Master."

"Oh. Erm… yes, of course." He squeezed at her hands and let her pull away. She gave him a crooked little smile and whispered,

"Goodnight."

"Night," he said gently, and he watched her Disapparate, leaving him standing there like an idiot in formal robes, dressed for a date that would now never happen.

* * *

They had been divorced for almost a month longer than they'd been married. Voldemort knew that to be true. It didn't make it any easier to be divorced from her.

He was distracted in his meetings while she was in the Canary Islands. Was she off with some tanned young wizard? What was she doing? In one meeting, Voldemort kept having to ask Nott and Avery to repeat themselves, because he was so empty-headed that he couldn't keep track of what they were saying. Eventually he told them that they'd have to come back at a later time, and he told Malfoy to cancel his meetings until after Bellatrix returned.

On the day she was scheduled to return, it was pouring rain outside, and Voldemort stared out the window of his office with a cup of hot tea in his hand. He'd propped the window open so that the cool air and the brush of the rain could come inside, for he liked the little bit of spray. It was refreshing. Suddenly he saw a black blur in the gardens, and then that little figure came trotting up toward the house. She took off at a run all of a sudden. Bellatrix.

Voldemort practically dropped his teacup, managing to Vanish it wandlessly instead. He rushed over to the door of his office and flung it open, and he hurried out into the corridor. She came dashing up the steps from the foyer and running - _sprinting_ \- down the corridor toward him. He let her run by him into his office, and he thought something must be terribly wrong. He slammed the door shut and asked,

"Bella, what the devil is the matter with -"

She silenced him by throwing her rain-soaked arms, still bared from the sleeveless clothes she'd worn in the Canary Islands, around his shoulders. She gasped and squeezed at him, and Voldemort was shocked. He embraced her and whispered,

"What's the matter?"

"I love you," she told him. "Make the vow."

His heart began to race then, and when she pulled back, he just nodded. He licked his lip and drew out his wand. He trembled a little as he held the tip to his heart and recited the promises he'd memorised weeks earlier.

" _Bellatrix of the House of Black. To you I make this Vow of Loyalty. Let my heart be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my mind be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. Let my body be yours and yours alone now and forevermore. And should I violate this most sacred vow, let my body turn to dust and my soul turn to ash. I am yours, Bellatrix of the House of Black. I am yours. This I vow._ "

He felt a very warm glow, a burning sort of heat, flush through his veins, and he watched light radiate out from his heart. Bellatrix's eyes went round, and she panted where she stood with rain dripping from her hair. She chewed her lip hard and nodded.

"Marry me?" she asked him, and he realised she'd just proposed to him. He shook his head, confused and dizzy, and he asked in a hoarse whisper,

"What?"

"Please, let's try this again," she said. "I just spent four days realising that I can not live without being yours, and with that vow, I know… I know why you made the mistakes you made. I also know how deeply you love me. And I believe… I really and truly believe… that you and I were meant for one another in a way far deeper than any arranged marriage contract could ever convey."

"I think that's true," Voldemort agreed.

"So will you marry me?" Bellatrix asked. Then, seeming to realise she'd been insolent, she tacked on, "Master?"

"Yes." His voice was barely audible. He seized her face in his hands and bent to touch his forehead to hers. "Yes, my finest servant and the only witch I could ever hope to love. Yes. I will marry you again, and this time… this time is forever, you understand? I am yours, and you are mine, and we will be together forever."

"Forever," Bellatrix whispered, clutching at his chest. She laughed a little, nodding, and she absorbed the kiss when Voldemort crushed her mouth.

 **Author's Note: She proposed to him! Everybody say "awww" and "yay Death Eater feminism!" Haha. But, seriously… is Bella right that they have to stay underground now? And when will the attacks really ramp up? After all, we're getting really close to that 1970 "beginning of the First Wizarding War" timeline.**


	27. Hurry Up And Wait

Bellatrix stalked like a cat down the London sidewalk. She padded toe first in the first grey light of morning and adjusted her grip on her wand. From behind her, a voice whispered,

"Wait up, Miss Black!"

"No, you hurry up, Rookwood!" Bellatrix whirled, still not used to the mask. Voldemort had constructed specialised dark silver masks for each of the Death Eaters for use on missions. It would be obvious who Bellatrix was, what with her curls exploding from her head and her small, female stature, but for the tall men, it would be difficult to tell them apart once they were cloaked and masked. But this morning, it was just Bellatrix and Rookwood. They'd come to Shoreditch in London on a mission. The dossier had been entrusted to them three days earlier, and Bellatrix had memorised everything inside. Now she stepped up to the shabby red brick building at Number 14, and she whispered to Rookwood,

"You stay outside and secure it out here. As soon as you see the Dark Mark, go back to Malfoy Manor to debrief."

"Yes, Miss Black," Rookwood hissed from the bottom of the stoop. Bellatrix hustled up the stairs and aimed her wand at the door.

" _Alohomora._ " It clicked open, and she used her elbow to push it open. This was the home of Phelan Rowland, a Half-Blood, and his Muggle wife, Iris. Phelan and Iris had a daughter at Hogwarts. But Phelan had been making statements - loudly - against Lord Voldemort and the Blood Purity movement, and he was also a blood traitor, if a Half-Blood could be considered one. So Voldemort had said that Phelan and Iris would become examples. To top it off, the same Dark Mark that was imprinted on the Death Eaters' arms would go glittering up into the sky, green and shimmering, as proof that the act had been committing by the Death Eaters with pride.

Bellatrix hustled into the house, and she ignored the fact that a cat slipped out. Too bad, she thought. This place smelt of beef broth, homey and simple, but Bellatrix had no time to linger and observe. Instead she just moved up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she possibly could. She hustled past an empty bedroom that was decorated in greens and pinks - the daughter's room - and toward the master bedroom. Inside, she could see Phelan and Iris Rowland still sleeping.

" _Avada Kedavra!_ " Bellatrix hissed, whipping her wand through the air. " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

There were twin flashes of jade green light, and each body flopped out of the bed and landed with an ungraceful thud upon the carpeted flooring. Bellatrix smirked and raised her wand to the sky like her master had instructed her.

" _Morsmordre_ ," she said, her breath silk on her lips. The spell came out like a prayer, and green sparks shot up out of her wand. The Dark Mark would be tattooed upon the early morning clouds, Bellatrix knew. She grinned and Disapparated, going straight for Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"You really made me so happy today," Voldemort said at dinner later that night. "I was so pleased with how efficiently you got rid of my enemies, Bella. I… your service is impeccable."

"I like being a soldier," Bellatrix told him. "I'm so glad I'm serving in this new war instead of a student at Hogwarts. Really, I am. Getting expelled was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Still." Voldemort folded his hands on the table. "I should like to apologise for that. I ought not to have intentionally gotten you into so much trouble without discussing the matter with you first. I sent that filthy letter knowing you'd get expelled when it got 'lost.' I shouldn't have cut your education short without your consent. That was… wrong. With everyone else, I find myself in abject lack of scruples, but with you… the guilt always seeps in."

Bellatrix sighed and finished eating her meat dumplings. She shook her head.

"I'm not angry. Not about that."

"I wish you had let me come with you to the Canary Islands," Voldemort said suddenly, and Bellatrix curled up one side of her mouth. She shrugged.

"I didn't even go to the beach. I just wound up sitting in the hotel room crying. I felt like a fool, like I was letting you slip farther away every day, and I desperately wanted you back. I was still heartbroken, but I needed you. And I couldn't stop thinking about it, so I barely ate anything and I didn't go out. It was just four days of sulking."

"I know the feeling," Voldemort said. He licked his lip carefully and said, "Perhaps you'll allow me to take you there again sometime."

"Perhaps," Bellatrix teased. She sipped her red wine and asked him plainly, "When are you going to marry me?"

Voldemort scoffed. He scratched at his head a little and sighed. "Well. We already had a public wedding. A big one. This one should probably be much smaller, don't you think?"

"Much, much smaller," Bellatrix agreed. A small piece of lemon cake appeared on her plate, and as she nibbled a bite, Voldemort suggested,

"I think your parents will attempt to murder me if they aren't invited. I think we ought to have a simple handfasting ceremony in the presence of your parents and sister, performed by Corban Yaxley since he's certified for that in the Ministry."

"Oh, I don't think my parents are going to want to be there, Master," Bellatrix said hurriedly. Her mother had sobbed, distraught, when Bellatrix had informed her that she was taking Voldemort back. Her father had insisted that he could make her a good match with a young wizard. They supported Lord Voldemort the politician, but they no longer wanted him as a son-in-law.

"Well, we'll need a witness aside from the officiant," Voldemort said, looking very uncomfortable. Bellatrix sipped her wine again and said very warmly,

"Don't worry. I'll write to my sister."

* * *

"I think she and Lucius will make fine Death Eaters one day, My Lord," said Bellatrix, and when Voldemort frowned in confusion, Bellatrix handed him the letter that she held in her hand. Voldemort rose from his desk at Marsham House and read it aloud.

" _Dear Bellatrix,_

 _Of course it would be my greatest honour to witness your wedding to the only wizard I think could ever bring you true happiness. I hate to say I told you so, but I rather knew this would happen._

 _If you are willing to wait until December, the handfasting can take place as soon as I get home from school for the holidays. If you don't want to wait that long (and I certainly understand if you don't), I can try my best to argue that I should be able to come home for a weekend for Mum's fortieth birthday party extravaganza in three weeks. After all, Daddy's throwing her a very grand party, isn't he? I feel as though, if I beg and plead with Slughorn for permission, I'll wind up home right around Halloween. Could you do the ceremony then?_

 _I am so happy for you that you've found a solution that allows you to be with him. I don't need the details; they aren't my business. But I do know that you were the happiest I've ever seen you when you were married to him. I hope you find that again._

 _Love you,_

 _Cissy_

* * *

Later that night, Voldemort lay on his back with Bellatrix curled up against him. She'd decided to stay the night after kissing and caressing, and Voldemort had been so happy about that that he didn't even care about penetrating her. He kissed her forehead and pet her curls. She stirred in her sleep and tightened her fingers on his chest, and he whispered,

"Every day, I shall love you more."

"Hmm?" She blinked her eyes open very slowly and raised her head up. "What's the matter, My Lord?"

"Nothing," he insisted. But she could tell he was troubled. She also yawned a little and told him,

"I dreamed the same dream I've been having for months and months. All through our divorce. Since before we parted."

"What dream?" Voldemort felt uneasy now. Repeated dreams and visions in the magical world were a bad sign. They usually meant there was some semblance of truth behind them. He tipped his head and asked again, "What dream?"

"A little boy, a baby. Black hair. You'd just killed his father, then his mother. Then you went for the boy. But when you did, your spell backfired and your body was destroyed. You were… I don't know. Not killed, but… ruined."

Voldemort wanted to tell her that it was silly, that it was just a dream, but some instinct deep inside of him told him it was far more than just a dream. He swallowed hard and nodded, and he whispered,

"We have to go to Salzburg, in Austria. There is a profoundly gifted Seer there, a witch called Liesl Drucken. She interprets dreams. If you show her your dream, she will inform you of the future. She is real. She is a real Seer; I saw her at work during my years on the Continent. We have to go to her, to Salzburg. I need to know what this vision is."

Bellatrix nodded gravely and whispered, "I'll go wherever you bid me, Master. Forever."

 **Author's Note: Woo! So we have a trip to a Seer in Salzburg to interpret what** _ **we**_ **know is a vision of Harry Potter. Then we have a handfasting with Narcissa as a witness on the weekend of Druella's birthday bash. This should all be fun. :} Please review - twenty points to your House if you do!**


	28. Hotel Goldener Hirsch

"This is the most beautiful city I've ever seen," said Bellatrix, looking up and around her at all of the mountains and quaint little buildings. Voldemort scoffed.

"We aren't here to sightsee, Bella."

"I can't help but see the sights, though, My Lord."

He led her down a narrow road and said,

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow to go see Liesl. She accepts visitors to her shop in the early morning. We'll see if I can trick this Muggle hotel into giving us a room for the night, and then we'll go to Liesl tomorrow."

"All right," Bellatrix agreed. She marveled at how confidently he strode through the streets of the Austrian city, and then she realised he'd probably spent a good deal of time here before. She followed him through the winding paths that were darkened merely by how closely the buildings stood to one another, until they reached a more expansive square where a beautiful fountain must have sprayed refreshing water in the summertime. But now it was autumn, and it was chilly here to say the least, so the fountain had been turned off.

"The hotel is just this way," Voldemort said, and Bellatrix found herself asking,

"Have you stayed there before?"

"Yes," he said. "Once, after I got into a terrible duel with a wizard from Andorra. I had to heal up."

"Andorra." Bellatrix scoffed as she trotted alongside him across the cobblestones. "Can't say as I've ever met anyone from Andorra."

"This man hadn't really ever met anyone else, or at least it didn't seem like it. He was a Mountain Man, the sort of wildling who'd lived on his own his whole life. Taught himself magic, and that meant he was hard to fight. Unpredictable."

"Why were you fighting him?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort smirked as he glanced down at her and said,

"He called me a _puny little bastard_. I didn't like it."

"Puny?" Bellatrix was shocked. "Puny?"

"I was skinny in those days," Voldemort shrugged. "Here it is. The Hotel Goldener Hirsch."

Bellatrix stared up at the luxurious-looking building and marveled.

"This looks nice."

"Well, you can stay anywhere you want when you can do _this_." Voldemort bent down, picked up a few pebbles off the cobblestones, and turned away from passing Muggles. He surreptitiously pulled out his wand, aimed it at the pebbles, and they Transfigured into paper bills of Muggle money. Voldemort curled up his mouth and said to Bellatrix,

"They'll have deposited it into a bank by the time it changes back to rocks."

"Idiots," Bellatrix laughed, and she followed him toward the double glass doors. A uniformed man opened the doors for them, and Bellatrix nodded as she held Voldemort's hand and went inside. It felt a bit strange to be _with_ him so obviously, to hold his hand and walk into a hotel with him. It had been months and months since they'd been _together_ like this. But it felt good, in its own bizarre way.

The lobby was all white with dark wooden furniture, and there were mounted antlers on the walls. Bellatrix stared at her surroundings as she heard Voldemort say to the Muggle woman behind the desk,

" _Ich möchte bitte zwei Nächte in einem Zimmer bezahlen._ "

He spoke German. Of course he spoke German; he knew everything. But, she thought, he must have learnt German on the Continent. It would have made sense for him to do so. She examined a vase on a table as money changed hands a key was given over, and then Voldemort picked up the suitcase they'd brought - more for show than anything else - and he said to her,

"This way, Bella."

She resisted the urge to call him _My Lord_ in public, and she just smiled a little and followed him toward a flight of stairs. They walked up the stairs past a landing and then down the corridor on the next one, until they came to Room 25. Voldemort glanced over his shoulder and, seeing a Muggle woman coming out of her own room, apparently decided to use the actual key instead of magically opening the door. Once he pushed the door open, he shut it behind Bellatrix and muttered,

"I despise being among them."

"Can't be helped, can it?" Bellatrix sighed. She sat on the bright red and white candy striped bed and said, "It's only for a little while. Once we get Liesl Drucken to interpret my dreams, we can go back to living in wizarding Britain."

Voldemort walked over to the television, a device whose appeal Bellatrix had never fully understood, and flicked it on. He loosened his tie and took a few steps back as the black and white image of some dancing women and an applauding crowd moved on the screen. He took off his jacket and mumbled,

"They're so easily entertained. Why bother with chess when you can just stare at this?"

"Hmm. They're idiots," Bellatrix said again. She frowned, for the imagery was giving her a headache, and she requested, "Please, will you turn it off?"

He flicked the power switch again and turned round slowly, and she asked him,

"What do you think they mean? The dreams? The visions?"

"I think…" Voldemort appeared to suck his teeth, and he sat down in the vibrant red chair beside the television. "I think you're seeing the future. But I don't know when it is, or where. I don't know how to escape it, or if I'm meant to. I think it's like a prophecy. You told me months and months ago about this, and I ignored it. But now… I am not ignoring it."

"Why not?" Bellatrix asked, and he sighed as he told her,

"You are not just some paramour, Bellatrix. You are not just some witch I let into my trousers. I love you. And I suspect that if you have had the same dream that many times, there must be some reason. There must be some serious meaning behind it. So I won't ignore it anymore."

"Can I ask you something, Master?" Bellatrix said from the edge of the bed, and he nodded a little. She felt hungry then, staring at him, and she swallowed hard as she asked gravely,

"Did you enjoy her as much as you enjoy me?"

His lips parted, and his eyes went wet, and he shook his head.

"No." He said the word as though there were simply nothing else to say, but Bellatrix needed a better answer than that.

"Then why did you do it?"

"All the wrong reasons, though there could never be right ones," he whispered. He flicked his eyes up to her and informed her, "You know, I can feel it. The vow I took. It's like… when I think of you, I feel this sting, this burn. But it's _good_. It feels good. I like it."

"That's odd." Bellatrix wrapped her arms around herself, embracing herself, and Voldemort murmured,

"Come here, will you?"

She stood and walked slowly toward him, and he licked his lip as he sprawled his large hands on the arms of the chair. He seemed to be breathing rather quickly, Bellatrix noticed. He wanted her. She frowned a little; she hadn't even taken off a scrap of clothing. But he told her,

"I want you… all the time now. I… crave you."

"Oh." She smiled a little and shrugged. "What, just since taking the vow?"

"Every minute since then," he said, shutting his eyes. "I've been waging war with myself not to tackle you in the streets."

She giggled and whispered, "I'm glad you didn't do _that_."

"Come here." He left no room for debate now, and he reached up to seize Bellatrix's wrist. She was surprised by the force with which he pulled her down into his lap, and she gasped a bit when she felt the hard lump of his arousal beneath the crotch of her knickers. He shoved her skirt up and wrenched at her waist, making her grind down hard onto him, and as he tipped his head back, he mumbled,

" _Gaudens Maxima._ "

"What? Oh!" Bellatrix was shocked that he would just incant an orgasm spell, inflicting a powerful climax upon her out of nowhere like that. She was even more shocked when he seized her face and kissed her hard through it. She was clenching, shaking, and everything was hot and ringing. His tongue was in her mouth. His hands were on her face. His cock was throbbing beneath her. It was so, so much, and Bellatrix whimpered helplessly against his lips.

"I love you," she whined, unable to stop herself. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and rolled her hips firmly against his. "I love you. I love you."

"Please do not leave me ever again," he said in a breathless whisper, and she replied,

"Don't give me an excuse to do it."

"All right." He jerked his hips up against her body and groaned, and she pulled back to stare at his face. His features contorted as if he were in pain, but she knew he was just finding his pleasure right there in the chair, fully clothed. She brushed her fingers around his face, around the little lines that betrayed his age, and she whispered again,

"I love you."

He nodded. He licked his lip and told her seriously,

"With every day, I love you more."

Bellatrix sighed and heaved herself off of him, and as she straightened herself up, she said in a dizzy, airy sort of tone,

"I suppose we ought to clean up and go get some dinner. And then tomorrow morning, we'll go see Liesl Drucken about my dreams."

"Dinner." Voldemort dragged his trembling fingers through his greying hair. "I know a place with the best wienerschnitzel in town. Let's go."

 **Author's Note: Hmmm… he wants her more now that he's taken a Vow of Loyalty to her. Innnnnnnteresting. And tomorrow they meet with Liesl Drucken. We all know what the visions mean. What will** _ **she**_ **tell them? Also, side note - if you've never been to Salzburg IRL, go there. It's my favorite city ever. The end. LOL.**


	29. Did You Know?

"It's so cosy in here!" Bellatrix exclaimed, and she giggled a little, for the place was almost charming. The Restaurant s'Herzl was a wood-paneled place with a clarinet player and an accordionist in the corner, the din of conversation a low buzz throughout.

" _Ein Tisch für zwei_ ," Voldemort told the woman at the front podium. He and Bellatrix were shown to a little table, and she just stared as Voldemort said in German to the waiter, " _Zwei gute Biere und zwei Wiener Schnitzel._ "

"You are English?" the waiter asked, and Voldemort just flicked his lips up into a mirthless smile and nodded. The waiter grinned at Bellatrix and asked, "And your daughter? Is it her first time here in Salzburg?"

"I'm his wife," Bellatrix said, looking and sounding very offended. The waiter bowed his head and said contritely,

"My apologies. I assumed wrongly. I'll be back shortly with the beer and Schnitzel."

"Stupid Muggle," Bellatrix huffed after the man walked off. She crossed her arms and shook her head. "How could anyone possibly assume I was your _daughter?_ "

Voldemort laughed and raised his eyebrows. "How could anyone assume that? Almost all Muggles that see us together assume that, Bella. Oh, and you're not my wife."

"Oh. Right." She seemed almost confused then, as if she'd instinctively referred to herself that way. But she hadn't been his wife for about seven months now, and she wouldn't be until they performed a handfasting in a few months' time. She cleared her throat and said quietly, "Sorry I said that, My Lord."

"I promise you that I did not mind," Voldemort said lightly, folding his hands on the table. He turned his attention to the accordion and clarinet playing in the corner. They were playing a lively three-beat piece, and Voldemort said softly, "A waltz. I'd like to dance a waltz with you again sometime."

"All right," Bellatrix said. Voldemort flicked his eyes to her, and, as the Muggle waiter approached with two steins of beer, he said, "I didn't mind what you said."

* * *

"Her shop is _here?_ " Bellatrix seemed surprised that they were nearing such a luxurious building, an 18th century plaster construction on the city's outskirts, abutting a wooded hill. Voldemort smirked down at Bellatrix and said,

"Liesl Drucken is not a cheap witch, Bellatrix, and her services do not come cheap, either. It will cost us more than mere Galleons to see her today."

"What do you mean?" asked Bellatrix, hustling to keep up with his long strides. She looked very pretty today, her curls pulled back in a low ponytail, dressed in black velvet beneath her warm cloak. Her pale cheeks were pink from the chilly air, and her full lips were dark red from lipstick. He wanted to kiss her. He nearly stopped his walking and pulled her into his arms to do so. Why did he want her so badly right now, he wondered? Worse than ever, he wanted her. He felt himself starting to go a little hard in his trousers beneath his trench coat, and he stopped.

"What's the matter?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort gulped. He shook his head, his dress shoes scraping on the cobblestones as he shifted.

"Nothing's the matter," he lied, and Bellatrix scowled. She approached him, but he held a hand up and shook his head. "Stay away for a moment, or I won't… I need you to…"

"What is this, this sudden urge that you've got?" Bellatrix asked, and Voldemort shrugged, for he honestly didn't know. He'd taken her body after dinner the night before, being physical with her for the second time since arriving in Salzburg, and when he'd woken hard and she'd gone to take a shower, he'd touched himself to completion, knowing she was naked in the bathroom. She was so much, so near, and she was all-consuming suddenly.

The very acute need started to abate, and Voldemort whispered,

"All right. Let's go."

He hurried into the large, mustard yellow building where Liesl's shop was, and Bellatrix followed him, still seeming concerned. She followed him up the carpeted, winding stairs, up to the first floor and then the second. She followed him down the wide corridor, past a shop that sold violins and a Muggle psychiatrist's office. Then they reached a door marked 2C, and Voldemort sighed as he pulled out his wand.

"I haven't been here in fourteen years," he said. "I hope her password's the same."

"Password," Bellatrix repeated, and she looked around to be certain the wide corridor was devoid of Muggles. Voldemort tapped his wand on the door, just beneath the brass 2C, in the combination he remembered. Six times, then nine times, then four times, then eight times. The door clicked and swung slowly open, and Voldemort let out a little noise of satisfaction.

"She never changes, Liesl," he said. Bellatrix frowned a bit, still seeming confused. She followed Voldemort through the doorway and gasped softly when she saw the luxurious rococo room inside. The walls were mint green, and the spindly furniture was dark brown. The curtains were cream and heavy. This was likely not what Bellatrix had expected from the office of a Seer.

"Tom Riddle. Look what you've become." Liesl Drucken, who sat on one of the cream-upholstered chairs, seemed like she had been waiting. She probably had. She was very old - Voldemort wasn't sure how old - but she had aged very elegantly, looking like a Victorian majesty with her white hair piled atop her head in a tight bun, little spectacles over her pale grey eyes. She folded her hands in her lap and tipped her head.

"You," she said to Bellatrix. "I have seen you in visions, but I do not have a name. Give me a name."

"Bellatrix. I'm Bellatrix Black." She curtsied deeply to Liesl, who smiled a bit at Voldemort and demanded,

"What were you thinking, ruining things with her?"

"I wasn't," Voldemort admitted, his cheeks going hot. He reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the jewelled dagger he'd bought from Borgin and Burkes before coming. It was a 14th century piece from India and was said to aid in Divination, but only for real Seers. It had not come cheap. Voldemort walked over to Liesl and handed the dagger over, and she gave a knowing smile.

"The Seeing Dagger of Chandigarh. How did you know I wanted this, Tom? Are you a Seer yourself?"

"Sneaking suspicion," Voldemort shrugged. He sighed. "Bellatrix has had the same dream many times now. I'd like you to interpret it."

"You came all this way for a dream," Liesl nodded. "Must be some dream. Sit down."

She wandlessly drew a cream-coloured sofa nearer to her, and Voldemort gave Bellatrix a meaningful look. Liesl was a powerful witch aside from her Divination. Bellatrix unclasped her cloak and draped it over the back of the sofa, where she sat beside Voldemort. Liesl didn't offer them tea or coffee; she would never do any such thing. Instead she just asked,

"When did you teach the girl Occlumency? I feel shields."

"She's a Legilimens," Bellatrix marveled, and Voldemort scoffed.

"How else do you suppose she sees the dreams? Let down your shields. I taught her Occlumency to guard my secrets, Liesl, and you should know why that was necessary."

"Indeed. _Legilimens,_ " Liesl said seriously, and Voldemort watched as there was a silent exchange between Liesl and Bellatrix. He knew what Bellatrix was showing her - the dream of the little black-haired baby, of the parents that Voldemort had killed, of the spell that had backfired and destroyed Voldemort's body and left his soul floating alone. After what seemed like an eternity, Bellatrix panted a little, and Liesl stared at Voldemort with wide eyes. She handed him the dagger he'd given her, and she shook her head.

"Take it," she said, and Voldemort scowled.

"What do you mean?"  
"Some futures are best left undiscovered," Liesl insisted. She started to shove the dagger toward Voldemort then, and she insisted, "Take the dagger back; I do not wish to perform the services you have asked of me. Go back to England. Go now; get out of my office."

"Master?" Bellatrix sounded panicked, and Voldemort whipped out his wand. He aimed it right at Liesl, whose eyes welled as she shook her head firmly.

"Tom," she hissed, "do not become the monster I see."

"What monster?" Voldemort flew to his feet. "What are you talking about?"

Liesl shut her eyes. "Just kill me. I will not tell."

"Oh, yes you will," Voldemort snarled. " _Imperio._ "

"No!" Liesl's mind blasted the curse away in a puff of green smoke. She was entirely too strong for such a spell. She curled against the back of the chair and said in a voice that seemed terrified, "You will become strong. Powerful. You will destroy so many people and places and things. And then, your hubris will get the best of you, Tom Riddle, and a baby will destroy you."

"What baby? Give me the blasted name!" Voldemort growled, but Liesl shook her head.

"I have no name."

"Give me the name! _Crucio!"_ Voldemort snapped his wand through the air, and Liesl collapsed onto the ground and convulsed during the few seconds that Voldemort held the torture. He didn't want to break her, so he let the spell go after five seconds or so, and he demanded again, "Tell me the child's name!"

Liesl shook like a leaf as she looked up from where she knelt on the ground, and she insisted,

"If I tell you, everything will fall."

"I'll get it out of you one way or another, and you know it," Voldemort clipped. Liesl nodded at that, and she shut her eyes, hanging her head as she whispered something Voldemort couldn't understand.

"What did you say?" he snapped, and Liesl raised her face, saying in a defiant voice,

"The boy's name is Harry Potter."

Voldemort searched the air for a lie, for he could always feel one, but he perceived nothing but truth. He reached for the Seeing Dagger of Chandigarh and tucked it back into his jacket, and he asked Liesl,

"Did you know you were going to die today?"

She sighed then, and Bellatrix looked awed on the sofa as Liesl heaved herself back up into the chair. Liesl folded her hands in her lap and admitted,

"Eighty-nine years ago, I made a prophecy about my own death, Mr Riddle. Would you like to hear it? Here it is. _As red leaves are falling, so shall I tumble at the end of the wand of the Dark Lord ascending. In the sixty-ninth year, as the red leaves are falling, when he has promised himself yet again._ I delivered that prophecy to my husband in the year 1880. So, yes, Tom. I had at least some inclination when you walked in my door today that perhaps, just perhaps, today was the day."

"Well," Voldemort said, his heart hammering, "You were right. _Avada Kedavra!_ "

 **Author's Note: Ahhhh! So much to take in in this chapter - PLEASE do leave a review so I know your thoughts! I know I update quickly, but feedback is still valued more than I can say.**


	30. The Potters

"Let's talk through this." Voldemort paced through the sitting-room back at Marsham House. Bellatrix practically chugged red wine, still in shock over what had happened that morning in Salzburg. She poured more wine into her glass and drank deeply, and she muttered,

"All right. Let's talk through this, My Lord."

"Harry Potter." Voldemort said the name carefully. He paused and stood in front of Bellatrix. He touched at his forehead. "Harry Potter."

"Charlus Potter and his brother Fleamont are distant relatives of mine. Charlus is… well, it's speculated that he prefers men. But Fleamont has a son. A little boy, the same age as my cousin Sirius. I believe he's called James," Bellatrix said, and Voldemort nodded.

"Right. James Potter. I remember that now. Fleamont and Euphemia had a son quite late. Freakishly late. James. If there's to be a little boy Potter in the future, it must be James' son. But James is still a boy."

"Then James must be eliminated, mustn't he?" Bellatrix asked simply. Voldemort shrugged.

"Easier said than done. We can't just go offing -"

"Gachshand's Syndrome. Westwind Potion," Bellatrix said numbly, as if the idea had materialised from the ether. She looked up at Voldemort in wonder, and he frowned.

"What?" he asked in shock. She sipped her wine and shrugged.

"Gachshand's Syndrome," Bellatrix nodded. "The disease… the magical disease that manifests in children whose mothers are over sixty when they birth them? It can kill overnight. And the symptoms are -"

"A swollen, purple face, bugged-out eyes, and a sudden loss of hair," Voldemort nodded breathlessly. "Almost identical to the side effects of -"

"Westwind Potion," Bellatrix grinned. But then her smile vanished, for she remembered what she'd read in a potioning text. "It takes four months to brew!"

"Well, the boy's, what, eleven?" Voldemort scoffed, and Bellatrix amended,

"Nine, My Lord. I think. If he's the same age as Sirius, then he's nine."

"Nine. Well, surely little Harry Potter isn't coming along in the next four months," Voldemort smirked. He paused. "The mother in the vision. The mother I killed. Was she old, like Euphemia? Was she young? What did she look like?"

"Young. Pretty. Red hair, almost like a Weasley or a Prewett," Bellatrix said, "only, I wouldn't be able to place her in any of the Great families. A stranger. But red-haired. She collapsed in death. The boy had black hair."

"So we kill James Potter," Voldemort shrugged. "What if Fleamont has… I dunno, an affair? With some red-haired witch? We need to wipe them out, don't we? This potion plan… it isn't enough. Just killing James Potter isn't enough. We have to take out the entire family. The possibilities are too many. Charlus is a factor, no matter the rumours…"

"We'll have to do it in one night," Bellatrix said, "or Charlus will flee. I'll have to take out Charlus, and you'll have to take out Fleamont, Euphemia, and James on your own. As far as I know, they're the only living Potters."

"When do we this?" Voldemort mused, and Bellatrix knew he was asking himself, not her. He stalked back and forth in the sitting room and decided aloud, "I won't sleep well until this is done. Months can not pass. And if I reveal the seriousness of this to my other Death Eaters, I will look paranoid and weak. How do I explain wiping out the Potter family?"

"A letter." Bellatrix grinned suddenly, and Voldemort scowled at her. She nodded frantically. "When I go to kill Charlus Potter, I'll Imperius him into writing a letter denouncing you. Writing to his brother, asking him to join Charlus in supporting Dumbledore against you. Then I'll kill Charlus, and I'll take the letter. You can show the letter to the Death Eaters as proof that the Potters were enemies. Traitors."

Voldemort curled up half his mouth, and he whispered, "Let's do this tonight. Bella. Let's do it tonight."

Her heart began to race, and she nodded. "Yes, Master."

* * *

" _...and I could never support a movement that puts such emphasis on blood purity, as you well know,_ " Bellatrix dictated. Charlus Potter scribbled the words out on the parchment, and then he looked up for his cue. Bellatrix aimed her wand at him and said, " _Fleamont, you have done so much good in your life. I ask you to continue doing good now. Join with me. Join with Albus Dumbledore. Let us stand against this dark Lord Voldemort and all that he wants to do. Let us stand against him, for if we do not actively stand in opposition, I fear we are complicit. I await your reply with anxiety in my heart. Your brother, Charlus._ "

Charlus Potter signed the letter and blew on the ink, handing the parchment to Bellatrix. She carefully folded it and tucked it into the bag at her waist, and she dragged her wand back through the air. Charlus stared up at her, blank as a slate, from where he sat at his ornate writing desk in his London townhouse, and he said quietly,

"Are you going to kill me now?"

"Yes. I am," Bellatrix nodded. She jabbed her wand forward and snarled, " _Avada Kedavra!_ "

The flash of green light was blinding, so much so that Bellatrix staggered back a little. She stumbled against the post of Charlus' stout bed and tripped, falling awkwardly onto her ankle. She winced, for she'd definitely sprained it, but as she heaved herself to her feet and limped to lean on the wall, she knew she had to leave. She blew her curls out of her face and panted through the pain, thinking that she had to find the will to Disapparate quickly. There was a body here, and soon enough there would be a scene of mass murder at the other Potter house. She and Voldemort needed to get back to Marsham House, and quickly. Bellatrix checked to be certain that Charlus was slumped and not breathing, and then she wrenched her eyes shut and Disapparated, focusing hard on the sitting room of Marsham House.

"Ahhhhh!" She fell so hard on the floor of the sitting room that she knew for certain she'd broken her ankle. She dropped her wand and banged her forehead on the Turkish rug and yelled, "Fuck!"

"Bella?"

How was he already back? How had he finished up so quickly? He hadn't had to Imperius his victims into writing a letter, Bellatrix thought distantly. She was being heaved to her feet, suddenly, and she exclaimed,

"My ankle's broken!"  
"What? Why?" Voldemort scooped her up into his arms, Summoning her wand, and Bellatrix explained through clenched teeth,

"I… staggered back after I cast the Killing Curse and I fell awkwardly. That's all."

"Oh. _Ferula._ " Voldemort cast the healing, splinting spell upon Bellatrix's ankle with his own wand, and she felt it snap and brace up. She yelped in pain, and Voldemort stuck out his hand toward the conservatory. " _Accio_ Anodyne Draught."

"No; that'll make me sleepy!" Bellatrix exclaimed, but Voldemort scoffed and caught the potion. He started to carry Bellatrix up the stairs, and he told her,

"You've done good work for me. I think you deserve to be sleepy. Let's go debrief."

They went into his bedroom, and he helped her into a nightshirt he fetched from his wardrobe. Then, as she lay in his bed and let the three drops of Anodyne Draught seep into her veins, he read Charlus Potter's letter to himself and smiled.

"It's perfect. You're perfect."

She laughed then, unsure of whether he was funny or whether the potion was making her chuckle. She asked,

"How did it go on your end, Master?"

"They're all gone," he said plainly, folding Charlus' letter. "Fleamont, the great inventor. His wife. The boy whose son would apparently one day destroy me. All the Potters are gone. And I must confess, I feel very much alive because of that fact."

"You are alive," Bellatrix said, shutting her eyes. She felt him lie down beside her, and his fingers stroked at her curls. He whispered, after what felt like an eternity but could have been ten seconds,

"I would not want eternal life, Bellatrix, if it were absent you. I tasted it for too long, and the taste was sour and spoiled. I require you. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Master," Bellatrix murmured, and his voice was rough and hollow with need then as he told her,

"There is no Lord Voldemort henceforth if there is no Bellatrix beside him. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master," she whispered, and she turned her face directly into a kiss. She was drowsy, dizzy, but the pain from her ankle was gone, and his hands stayed on her face and in her hair as he kissed her. He whispered a few things about loving her, a few things about needing her, and then Bellatrix drifted off to sleep. She was very certain, somehow, as the black velvet of slumber settled over her, that she could hear his heartbeat, though she wasn't sure from where it was coming. It didn't matter. It soothed her into the oblivion of rest, and one thought tumbled over and over through her consciousness.

 _There will be no Harry Potter._

 **Author's Note: Well, that's canon demolished, then. Now the path is cleared, and he's got a severe craving for Bellatrix, and did someone mention a handfasting? Mwah hahaha.**


	31. We Are Everything

He couldn't sleep.

He just couldn't. She was right beside him, smelling like rain, smelling like summer. Her curls spilled across his sheets like ink on parchment. She had a splinted ankle, he knew. She'd broken her ankle. But he couldn't help going hard, lying there beside her, staring at her.

"Bella," he whispered softly, thinking back over the past months he'd slept alone without her. Suddenly, after having made a Vow of Loyalty to her, it seemed like he could never sleep without her again. Even with her, he couldn't sleep. Not without…

"Bella."

His voice was a little louder now, a little more insistent, and she blinked her eyes open slowly. She stared at him through the dark room and whispered,

"What's the matter, Master? Is something wrong?"

"I need you," he told her in a cracked sort of voice. She huffed a little breath and reminded him,

"I broke my ankle."

"I know." He tucked her hair behind her ear and whispered, "I'll try not to hurt you."

"Master!" She giggled a little and shook her head. She murmured, "I started bleeding a few hours after we got back from Salzburg… the timing is just awful."

He growled in frustration, feeling so hungry he thought he'd starve and die right there. He sat up and threw the blankets back, and he tossed himself out of the bed. He stalked over to the window and stared outside, out onto the moonlit lawn, and he informed Bellatrix,

"I have craved you every moment since making that vow. I don't mind it, most of the time. But when I _need_ you, it's… it's more insistent than anything I've ever felt."

"Why is that, I wonder?" Bellatrix asked curiously from behind him. Voldemort shrugged.

"I don't know. What I do know is that my cock is aching inside my pyjamas right now, and I have a visceral need to be buried to the hilt inside you."

She was quiet then, but when he turned, she was sitting up in bed and smiling a little. She tipped her head and whispered,

"Come here, My Lord."

"Oh, Bella." He approached the bed, stalking like a predator, and she smirked. She asked him seriously,

"Have you ever wanted to… to be on the receiving end? Sometimes you play with me. You… inflict things on me."

"It doesn't work like that for wizards; our bodies need recovery," he said, but Bellatrix narrowed her wide eyes and whispered,

"I'm willing to wait."

Suddenly a fire had been lit within him, and he shoved his pyjama trousers down and off. He kicked them away, pulling off his pyjama shirt and tossing it aside, and he slid into the sheets beside Bellatrix. She pulled the blankets away from him and moved carefully, keeping her ankle far from him. She kissed at his lips, then his neck, then his shoulder, then his chest. Her kisses danced and hopped, touching just for a fleeting moment before moving on to the next spot. He shut his eyes and mumbled,

"I'm going to come the instant you touch me."

"I'll wait to touch you, then," she purred, and he groaned a little. Her fingers trailed up the insides of his thighs, which felt so good he almost burst. He tightened the cheeks of his buttocks and arched his back a little, clenching his fists at his sides, and he whispered,

"Please."

"Did you just…?" Bellatrix sounded disbelieving then, for Lord Voldemort did not _beg._ But she knew better than to say it, than to say the word _beg_. She didn't mock him. Instead she bent down, and he watched as she kissed the inside of his thigh. He hissed and clutched at his cock, trying his best not to explode, and he mumbled,

"More. More…"

"Master." She hummed that word against his balls, nuzzling her face into the crook of his thigh, and it was too much. Voldemort made the mistake of brushing his thumb once - just once - over the tip of his cock, and that was it. He was coming then, creamy bursts of the stuff landing in erratic jets all over his stomach. Bellatrix massaged his thighs through the climax, whispering that she loved him as his ears rang and he saw spots. And as he came down from the high, she reached for her wand and cleaned him up, and then she was lying beside him, petting his bare chest and the paunch of his stomach, and she hummed,

"I am very glad we went to Salzburg. I wouldn't be able to stand it if something happened to you… something like what I saw in my dreams. It haunted me for those months, seeing it over and over."

He shut his eyes and felt his heart race as he informed her,

"When you marry me again, you're not to be Bellatrix Riddle anymore. There is no more _Riddle_ ; it's a filthy Muggle name."

"All right," she agreed. "Who shall I be?"

"The Lady Bellatrix. That's all," he said simply, and she was silent at that. She just kissed his ribs, and after a long while, she asked him,

"Why did you bring me divorce papers that day?"

"I knew you wouldn't forgive me," he said honestly. "I couldn't think of a way you would possibly forgive me."

"I think I would… eventually… forgive you anything, for better or worse," Bellatrix said rather sadly, and suddenly Voldemort felt a spike of guilt go through him. He remembered the day Etheline Avery had walked into his office and stripped down and climbed onto him, and he shut his eyes and whispered,

"I had to learn that you were everything. I am a selfish creature, and I had to… I had to lose you to realise that you were everything."

" _You_ are everything, Master," Bellatrix corrected him, pulling her face up a little. "You're Lord Voldemort."

He stroked at her curls, knowing he was too tired to come again and feeling more than satisfied now just looking at her. A thought abruptly crossed his mind, and he knitted his brows as he considered,

" _We_ are everything."

She laughed a little and shook her head, but Voldemort nodded.

"You and I, together… alone, I'd make mistakes. I'd get sloppy. Careless. Overconfident. But with you… with your intelligence and your foresight and your… Bella, with you, I can be anything. Without you, I am nothing. So, together, we are everything."

"That is very confusing, My Lord," Bellatrix grinned, but then her smile faded a little and she nodded. "I did feel so very empty without you."

"The Lady Bellatrix," he murmured, and he brought her face down to his for a deep kiss.

 **Author's Note: Sorry for the mini-chapter, but I wanted to let this mostly-lemon stand alone from the big Death Eater meeting we have coming up. *rubs hands together* If you get a moment, let me know what your thoughts are. Thanks!**


	32. I Declare War

" _...and I could never support a movement that puts such emphasis on blood purity, as you well know. Fleamont, you have done so much good in your life. I ask you to continue doing good now. Join with me. Join with Albus Dumbledore. Let us stand against this dark Lord Voldemort and all that he wants to do. Let us stand against him, for if we do not actively stand in opposition, I fear we are complicit. I await your reply with anxiety in my heart. Your brother, Charlus."_

Lord Voldemort folded up the letter that Bellatrix had Imperius Charlus Potter into writing, and the others around the table looked at one another in shock. Voldemort shrugged.

"They were traitors," he said. "Scum. They had to be eliminated. I know that some of you were friendly with the Potters, but that doesn't matter anymore. They're gone now. Does anyone object?"

Not a single hand went up, and Voldemort nodded. Bellatrix looked around the dining room and studied the faces of her fellow Death Eaters. Fear. She read fear.

"I am going to create three new pairings," Voldemort said. "These will be death squads. Tasked with the elimination of a certain group of enemy. Listen carefully. Bellatrix."

She snapped to attention at the sound of her name, and he bowed his head, as if he were showing her respect. She tipped her head up a little, and he told her,

"You and I will be the political team. You and I will eliminate directly political enemies through targeted assassinations."

"Yes, Master," Bellatrix breathed. Voldemort sucked on his lip, staring at her for a long moment, and she knew why. He wanted her. His overwhelming desire was taking him over. She cleared her throat a little, and he huffed.

"Crabbe. Goyle," he snapped, and they jerked and startled. Voldemort folded his hands. "You will be the Mudblood and Muggle squad. Your duty is to _carefully_ target and terrorise Mudbloods and Muggles. You can do this by physically attacking them, by burning down their homes, by crashing their cars together. I want mayhem, and I want the Dark Mark cast overhead every time. Malfoy and the rest of you, contribute when you can; I know you're busy with other tasks."

"Yes, Master. We'll do you proud," said Crabbe. Voldemort sighed and said,

"Rowle and Mulciber. You're the Blood Traitor squad. Your duty is to target families like Weasleys who have turned their back on their Pureblood heritage. Bella and I will be too busy now to do what we did with the Potters; that's your job now."

"Yes, My Lord," said Thorfinn Rowle, who was Opal's brother. Bellatrix gulped and listened like the others as Voldemort said sternly,

"The time has now come for us all to decide whether we mean for this movement to become our new reality. This is no longer just a hobby or a conversation topic for little meetings at Malfoy Manor. This is war. I, Lord Voldemort, sit here today and declare war on my enemies."

There was applause then, and Bellatrix could swear she saw Voldemort's eyes flash red. She blinked quickly and panted with energy and emotion as he slowly rose and said,

"Today I declare war on people like Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall, on the entire Ministry of Magic. I declare war on Muggles and Mudbloods, and I declare war on blood traitors like the Potters and the Weasleys who do not realise the gift that flows in their veins. I declare war on them all!"

The cheers were raucous then, and Bellatrix's eyes went so wet she had to swipe at them frantically. She clapped along with the others, and Voldemort shouted,

"Who will fight with me in this war?"

"I will!" Everyone shouted. Voldemort nodded. He smiled a little and shut his eyes, waiting for quiet to fall in the room. A silent power buzzed around him, and he whispered,

"Dismissed, my friends."

* * *

" _Roses For Clementine_ again?"

"I'm going to Diagon Alley in just a few moments when the shops open; I was just reading a few pages to pass the time." Bellatrix set down her teacup as Voldemort walked into the conservatory. She shut her book and set it aside, and he frowned as he asked,

"Why are you going to Diagon Alley?"

"Meeting up with my mother at Madam Primpernelle's," Bellatrix said lightly, but Voldemort shook his head gravely and told her,

"I don't suppose you should go shopping anymore. Not now that… you could be arrested."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "What proof have they?"

"It only takes one traitor, Bellatrix," Voldemort snapped, and Bellatrix realised he was right. If Crabbe or Goyle or Rookwood or any of the rest of them decided to go tatling to the Ministry, a simple confession could land her in Azkaban for life. She swallowed hard, realising she'd be on the run the same way Voldemort was now, and she murmured,

"Well, I'll see my mother this weekend, anyway. We _are_ going to my great-grandmother Violetta's 80th birthday party, aren't we?"

"Yes, of course we are. I have no enemies in the House of Black," Voldemort said confidently. "You'll have to write to your mother, though, and tell her that shopping in Diagon Alley is out of the question for now for safety reasons."

"I shall do so, Master." Bellatrix covered his hand with hers, and she moved her fingers lightly over his as he hissed a little and complained,

"I want you _all_ the time."

"I'm sorry." Bellatrix cupped his jaw in her hand where he sat beside her on the wrought iron sofa, and she whispered, "I should go send her that owl if I'm going to do to it."

"Mmph." Voldemort seemed incredibly frustrated, and suddenly Bellatrix noticed there was a bulge in the trousers he wore. She scowled.

"Should we be worried about that?" she asked. "About the… need?"

"I don't think so," he said hesitantly, "but it's… odd. I confess it is odd. And it can be inconvenient. I wanted you so badly during the meeting that I nearly came over and claimed you on the table."

She snorted a laugh, but he didn't seem amused. Her smiled disappeared, and she just said seriously,

"I'll go send that owl to my mother."

* * *

Bellatrix was coming out of her own bathroom, having taking a luxurious rose-scented bath and wrapped herself in a black terry cloth robe, when she realised Voldemort was standing in her bedroom. She froze, staring at him and thinking that she shouldn't be staying here at Marsham House, that they weren't married.

"I'll dress and go to my parents' house tonight," she said abruptly.

"Why?" he asked, and she breathed a bit heavily as she told him,

"Because I think you and I have fallen back into being husband and wife, which we are not."

"No, we are not. Yet." Voldemort approached her, and Bellatrix backed up a little. Voldemort slowed, and he reached into the pocket of his robe.

"Please," he said, "I never got to do this properly. Not the first time, and not yet this time. I am honoured that you asked me this time. Really, I am. The first time shouldn't have been paperwork. And I am more than willing to bend a knee for you, Bellatrix, so…"

"What are you talking about?" Bellatrix demanded, and she watched as Voldemort descended. He genuflected before her and took her left hand in his, and suddenly she was breathless. He slid something onto the fourth finger of her left hand, and she whispered, "What are you doing?"

"You asked me to marry you and I said yes," Voldemort said, staring up at her. He rose slowly and whispered, "The day I am your husband again, I will be whole again. Promise me, Bellatrix, that you will love me. That is all I ask. I ask nothing more of you now."

"Of course I will," she said, staring at her left hand. She was shocked by the weight of the ring he'd put there, by the sheer amount of diamond upon her finger. She swiped at her eyes and mumbled, "I'll love you forever. I'll serve you forever. I'll -"

He put his finger beneath her chin and brought his lips down to hers, kissing her very, very gently.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "The Potters had quite a fortune; it's ours now. You can have anything you want. Do you like the ring?"

She just nodded numbly. It was obviously platinum and diamond, crafted by expert hands with an expert wand. It featured a very large centre round stone surrounded by two layers of smaller stones, and the band was completely encrusted with small diamonds.

"I adore it," she said, looking up at him. "I adore you. I adore your movement. I adore us. I adore… all of it. Soon enough we'll be handfasted, married again, and you've made your vow to me, and I'll love you forever, and it's as you've said. We are everything. Aren't we? We'll be everything."

"Yes, Bella," he said, holding her face in his hands and kissing her again. "We will be everything."

 **THE END**

 **Author's Note: I've decided to end this here because this is going to be Part I of a trilogy to be called The Storm Series (in the vein of the Troublemaker Series and Songs of Bellamort Series). However, I need just a little bit of a break from this storyverse, so I'll be writing another short/silly Bellamort romp next before returning to the ~50k each Parts II and III. Thanks for your patience and I hope you'll return for Part II, which will be entitled** _ **Or We Run Ourselves Aground.**_ **Love to All! See you at my next story - _Set Fires For Me!_**


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